Island Nights
by compass54
Summary: I would always remember him as a dangerously beautiful twenty-two-year-old, a sensual and affectionate lover who could put a gun to a man's head and pull the trigger. Why I couldn't forget him was no mystery. I was still in love with him.
1. Chapter 1

I want to send the biggest thank you to the women who give me their time to encourage and improve my words. Having Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley guide me is everything, because I can be brave, knowing they'll stop me if I go too far. This tale is filled with a hundred details from my real life. Having said that, I was never involved in anything "shady". Some things I merely witnessed, and others are fiction. The story is written entirely from Bella's POV.

***A few of you have already asked. Yes, the beginning of this story is an expanded version of a one shot I posted ages ago.

 **Disclaimer** : The author does not own any publicly recognizable characters herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

"They're on time. You ready?" Emily calls when the bus pulls up outside. I even out my lipstick and check my shirt's tucked in. "Off you go, and don't forget to smile."

"Will do," I reply, as I stride out to the bus with my clipboard and passenger list, asking the outgoing guests to board. "Hello, Jared. Have we got everything?"

Our driver rolls his eyes but manages a smile. "Hi, Bella." I pull the door shut and jump into the seat behind him, letting out a big breath of air as we take off for the airstrip.

The twenty-seat aircraft will do a wide sweep of the island and land from the south. The passengers will love it, just as we did when we arrived, gasping at the sight of the tropical vegetation below, anticipating a vacation in heat and humidity.

They'll see an aerial view of our hundred rooms; some set just back from the palm-fringed beach, and others hidden and secluded in well-tended gardens. They could be headed for a double room in the two-story blocks, a big expensive suite, or one of a handful of thatched bungalows.

No matter what their budget is, it's our job to make them believe they have landed in paradise. As of today, I am going to be the first person they see when I greet them at our tiny airport.

Rosalie and I are on the first leg of our big adventure. As soon as we graduated, we took off to take jobs here for six months. The pay isn't great, but we were told you can save every penny, and we need about ten grand each for our long-planned trip to Europe.

We wanted to get as far away from home as we could, and this is where we ended up - about as far south as you can be from the state of Washington. Rosalie is waiting tables, and I've scored this job in the office.

When the bus comes out of the trees, the baggage truck joins us from the back road, laden with outgoing suitcases, the buzz of the approaching aircraft louder now.

We make small talk with the guests waiting to leave, asking them how they enjoyed themselves, and then don our earmuffs when we see Tyler put his on. As the plane touches down, Tyler gives us the thumbs up for Jared to join him, and they move the truck forward when the plane taxies in.

I have icy drinks ready to pour as the first person comes down the stairs, and I remember to smile. I also remember to look up and wave at the poor souls ready to board the plane to go home. The two sets of people couldn't be more different in their body language or dress.

They've all drained their glasses by the time the plane takes off, and I'm packed up quickly, herding the last of our excited group onto the bus. Now it's up to me to drive them safely to reception while the boys deliver the bags to their rooms - not a bad way to start a vacation, really.

As I drive in slowly, I point out the water activities center, the tennis courts, and the golf course flowing up the hill. There's a flurry of activity around one of the suites that isn't ready yet, but the incoming guests don't notice.

I hear squeals when we pull in and they see the open walls of the restaurant and bar adjacent to the main pool. The beach is right in front of us now and, at this time of the day, it's hard to resist.

They all have a smile on their face as they step off the bus and see the color of the ocean.

Emily has their welcome packs ready to hand over with their keys, and I enjoy her being my assistant for once. She's been cranky ever since I started, counting off the days until she leaves. "It gets to you after a while. You'll see," she's said on more than one occasion, adding a dramatic sigh. Now I'm looking forward to her departure as much as she is.

There are usually two of us manning the reception counter, and we work our asses off during checkouts and arrivals, the hours each side of the arrival of the plane at 12:30 and the launch at 3:00. The rest of the day, we keep a smile on our faces, mainly giving directions and taking bookings.

Until now, I've been starting at 7:00 am. Now that I'm taking over Emily's shift, 11:00 am until 8:00 pm with a break for lunch and dinner, my training period is officially over, and I'm getting an upgrade.

The "office bitches," a small group of us, are deemed important enough to occupy the better staff accommodations, sharing a bathroom between two bedrooms, and Emily's room is all mine when she leaves in the morning.

The "house mouses", gardeners, restaurant, and bar staff have to start out in what is lovingly known as "Slink," two rows of shoddy trailer homes joined together by a massive timber deck strewn with an assortment of odd discarded items acting as furniture.

The whole structure is covered so it doesn't leak, but it's a breeding ground for mold. The smell of wet dog soaks into everything, and no matter how many times you wash your stuff, it refuses to leave you, probably because the clothes lines are strung up over the deck between the rooms. "Stink" is a much more appropriate name.

Most people will do anything to move out of there. It inevitably involves sex, jumping into somebody's bed in a better room. I guess the quick coupling helps people settle down to life away from the rest of the world because we aren't far off the coast, but we are very isolated.

Emily and her husband invite a small group of people to the main restaurant for a going away dinner, but I can't go, of course, since I'm working. When I return for my last night in Slink, I see them finalizing their packing, but I don't go up there and lie about much I enjoyed working with her.

The next morning, I'm moving my meager possessions out before I start my shift, wanting to settle in before I come back this evening. My room is in the front row, and the thing I have been avoiding is now going to be literally right in front of my face - the "Caravan" - parked between Slink and the better accommodations up the hill.

Its two permanent occupants, the head barman, Emmett, and the staff barman, Edward, dominate the hierarchy in this place and are intimidating as hell. Edward, especially, makes me feel very uneasy.

Rosalie is sleeping with Emmett, and he's already invited her to move into the Caravan on a more permanent basis than just overnight, most nights.

She is both very brave and very reckless. The Caravan is the coolest place on the island, as well as the scariest.

Slink's communal female bathroom with its lack of privacy was the first place I noticed Edward watching me, sitting as brazen as can be on a car bench seat, smoking a joint, right outside the entry. He stood as a towel clad girl walked out, and they left together. I was still gazing at him when he turned and winked at me after handing her the smoke.

The word is that Edward can get you anything you want. He regularly leaves the island, returning with illicit drugs, available for sale to both staff and guests. He also takes orders for life's necessities, so he provides an essential service. A good bottle of shampoo is like gold around here.

No one asks where he goes, but he always catches an early boat and doesn't return until late.

He does most of his business here late on Friday nights when management allows us to join the guests in the main bar, as long as we are dressed appropriately and represent the resort professionally.

There are rumors about female employees making extra money keeping male guests company on "Island Night," as the staff refer to it, and that Edward supplies them with whatever they want to _enhance_ the experience.

Until now, my shift has never coincided with the two residents of the Caravan since I've started early, and they are always up late, partying. The outer door is usually open when they're home, latched to the side of the Caravan, a thin screened door the only thing keeping out the bloodsucking mosquitoes and horse flies.

I rarely see Emmett, but this later start time means I will probably see them if they surface prior to commencing work for the lunch shift.

Hearing the sound of grunting, I know the damn ducks are trailing me. There are a half dozen of these huge white Muscovy ducks that waddle around intimidating everyone when they aren't having sex. They are territorial and known to nip at newcomers.

One of the ducks latches on to a corner of my pillow hanging down, and it's strong, holding me back until I yell at it and yank the pillow from its beak. It immediately mounts one of the other ducks, and I snort, picking up the pace so I can get away from them.

Approaching my room, I spot Edward, stretching in the Caravan's doorway. He's draped what looks like a sarong around his hips, hanging so dangerously low I can't drag my eyes away, expecting it to fall off him any second. He waves to me with one hand while his other one reaches down the front to scratch himself.

"Which room are you in?" he calls to me. Too shocked to respond, I point to the number six on the door and then look back at him. Rubbing a hand over his abs, he calls out, "Six? Must be my lucky day. Grab Tanya, and come over for a drink later."

Tanya is the British girl who occupies the other half of our two-bedroom-one-bathroom arrangement. She has been waiting tables for four months already, friendly with Rosalie from the time we arrived. She knows how to play the game, having moved out of Slink quickly by hooking up with one of the gardeners who was leaving. I'm looking forward to hearing her tips on long-term survival here since most people barely last three months before moving on.

When I fumble the key into the lock, I turn back to see if Edward is still watching me. My eyes immediately return to his groin, and I know I turn crimson when he catches me, chuckling and moving out of sight.

Dragging my stuff quickly inside, I shut the door because this is the last kind of interaction I should be having with him. He's obviously out for whatever he can get sexually because I have seen him with various women over the last two weeks and heard lots more talk about him.

All I want is to do my job, lay low, and save my money. Getting to London, Paris, and Rome is my focus.

I am wary of my reaction to Edward, dangerously irresistible, with vibrant inquisitive green eyes and a mop of uncontrolled tawny hair. His body is what I'm sure every girl has in her head when she has dirty thoughts, and I've been having them since the episode when he was outside the bathroom watching me.

This new close proximity will probably do all kinds of things to my libido, watching women pass through that screen door into the lair of the Caravan, and fantasizing about what they do in there.

Huffing out a breath, I tell myself for the twentieth time that guys like Edward can't exist in my world, and I vow never to tell another soul how much he affects me.

Checking out my new surroundings, I realize how bare the room looks without anything personal. The ceiling fan works, and the bathroom is reasonable, but I'll have to find a way to delicately broach the subject of the dreaded mold that clings around the tiles. I have no problem taking that job permanently as long as the black stuff disappears.

Tanya is at work, and I check the door on her side of the bathroom, thinking it won't hurt to have a snoop into what she had done with her room, but it's locked.

It's already time to get ready for work anyway, so I apply the appropriate amount of makeup, put on my uniform, and walk down the hill to the office. I give the Caravan a sideways glance as the smell of dope wafts out, and Van Morrison accompanies the sound of quiet female laughter.

Back at lunch a couple of hours later, Edward is in place, looking crisp and fresh in his bartender's uniform, already serving alcohol to his regulars who always park on the only three stools. As I pass them, the pungent smell of rum from their drinks and the pores of their skin almost kills my hunger.

From what Rosalie has told me about the state of the Caravan, the staff bar shows its inhabitant has two sides. Edward keeps his workspace immaculate, constantly polishing glasses, applying fresh bar runner towels, and lining up bottles behind him perfectly.

He always seems friendly, but I never order anything, partaking only of the free stuff in the staff lounge: juice, milk, tea with fresh lemon, and sometimes coffee. It won't hurt my waistline to stay off the booze and soda for a while.

Lunch is always incredible, all the cold buffet items the guests receive. Cold cuts, salads and tropical fruits are fresh and abundant, but because everything is free, we aren't supposed to linger. I usually just eat, go back to my room to check my eyeliner hasn't melted, and then head straight back to work. Most of the barmen and the restaurant staff, on the other hand, have the afternoon free. A group of them usually spend a few hours working on their tans at the beach.

Since I have the next day off, Rosalie has asked me to join them. It will be the first time I have ever spent any time with her crowd, and frankly, my lily-white body is making me nervous about showing it in public.

After my obligatory hour back at reception after dinner, I make up my bed and scrub the bathroom without speaking to Tanya about it first. When my hair is crying out for a treatment, and I need to shave, there is no way I can get into that shower as it is.

Standing back and admiring the gleaming white surfaces, I feel very organized and proud.

Just after nine, I hear the first sounds of the nighttime workers returning, chitchatting about their plans for the rest of their evening. The sound of televisions begins to fill the previous quiet.

Living up here is so different. Slink had a constant stream of people moving between rooms, calling out to each other, but here it's more sedate, at least while the Caravan is in darkness.

I'm trying to read, but a craving for something cold and sugary is eating at me tonight - an icy Coke with bubbles that go up your nose. Hmm. I slip my feet into my flip-flops, then look down at what I'm wearing. I don't want to have to get fully dressed for something that will only take me a minute, so I pull on my robe, wrap it over, and tie a tight bow. Checking myself in the bathroom mirror, I'm nice and demure, showing nothing at all.

Everyone walks around here scantily clad in pajamas and bikinis, so I don't know what I am worried about, really. It's just that I have to go to the staff bar to get the Coke, and _he_ is there. Locking my door, I put my long chain with its keys around my neck, jingling the coins in my hand as I cross the service road and walk down the short path to the bar.

The smell of fresh toast is always strong in here. The jukebox is playing, and a couple is cuddling as they scan the selection. Edward is polishing wine glasses, sliding them upside down into a rack over the bar, and when he sees me approach, his eyes widen.

"Can I have a Coke please?"

He cups his ear before leaning forward so far that his cheek touches mine. I jump back slightly and repeat, "Coke… in a big glass, no ice?"

Still leaning forward, he looks right into my eyes and smirks. "I knew you'd come to me eventually. I didn't think you'd come ready for bed."

I swallow and lift my chin. "I'm not staying."

"Oh, come on, stay for a while. It's quiet tonight. I'll get you something to sit on." He's already bringing the stool from the other side of the bar for me. "Have a seat."

He stands back, raising his eyebrows, and waits. When I sit down, he smiles, returns to his side, and fills a huge glass with Coke from a gun, placing it in front of me and squeezing the trigger a few extra times to fill it right to the top.

There is no way I can pick it up without spilling it everywhere. Pulling my hair back, I lean forward and suck at the rim of the glass. When I glance up, he is studying me, his eyes wandering from my lips to my eyes.

With a sudden glint in his eye, he says, "You said you wanted it big."

I gulp at the innuendo, take my chain off, and place it down on the bar. He picks it up, fiddling with the keys like he is going to take them. Then he stands back near the register and watches me struggling, smirking before giving me a straw.

Once I take a deep pull on the icy Coke, I close my eyes, savoring the sweetness and bite as it races down my throat, the cold radiating out over my chest.

"Why don't you ever come to the bar?" he asks, with eyes already assessing me. He lowers the chain on the bar and picks up another wine glass. "Are you scared of me?"

I take another sip before I deflect that one. "I don't want to spend any money."

One of his eyebrows pops up. "How much do you need?"

"About ten grand, and I don't know how I'm going to last. Everyone here has little luxuries like televisions and stereos. I didn't really think about that."

He ponders my answer for a moment, slowly sliding the glass into the rack. "What are you saving for?"

"Europe. I'm going with Rosalie to England, France and Italy."

"Ee-so-la-bella," he sounds my name out, his tongue wrapping around the syllables as he leans back against the counter. I didn't even know he knew my name.

"What did you call me?"

He pushes off, taking a step forward, and places his forearms on the bar, his face too close again. "Italy is amazing. I have family who live on Lake Maggiore in the north, near Milano. Isola Bella was one of the regular ferry stops, and I always wanted to get off and see it. We never did."

I picture it and quietly daydream, replaying the way he pronounced all the names the Italian way. "I want to go to places like that when I leave here."

He nods, looking nostalgic, and continues polishing the glass slowly. "Me too… the last time we went I was twelve."

A small group is waiting to order, and one of them clears his throat. Edward sighs and leaves me to attend to them, so I stand to go back, feeling awkward on my own.

"You're coming over for a drink later, right?" he calls as he hands over their beers.

"I don't know, maybe." Grabbing my chain, I leave the coins on the bar and walk out. I don't look back, needing to think about whether it's a good idea.

Sitting on my bed, I'm unsure why he's both threatening and welcoming. There's an intimacy he assumes with you when he doesn't know you, and it's thrilling and off-putting at the same time.

Tanya comes home, and I hear water running. There's a knock on my bathroom door, and when I open it, she stands there looking amazed.

"I guess you've gathered I'm not great at cleaning, and neither was that moody cow who just vacated. I hope you're not going to get all uppity about chores."

I just laugh. It looks like Emily was a pain to live with as well. "It's okay. I really don't mind. I can't stand the mold."

"Then welcome, Bella!" she answers with enthusiasm. "I'll find a way to pay you back. We'll trade." She looks around my room and says, "First thing you need is some art. Come in to my side."

Following her, I walk into a different world. There is a television, shelves stuffed with books, candles, paintbrushes, and tubes of every color. Finished canvases lean against a wall, and a huge bold statement hangs over the bed, a cluster of white flowers emerging from big deep green leaves. I gasp at the painting, in awe of her talent, as I flip through the others, finding many familiar scenes from the resort, rich with local vegetation.

"Take any one you want. You're going to clean the loo right?"

I nod quickly and continue browsing, feeling like I'm getting the better end of the deal.

There is one painting of two white seahorses, delicate and almost see-through with black spot markings on their heads and chests. They are slightly sparkly, and their tails entwine them together gently, giving me a feeling of monogamy, security and love. The bigger one's tail curls around a piece of coral to secure them.

The seahorses and the clump of stark coral branches are the only things in focus. The background is suggestive of a highly colorful environment, but its clarity isn't necessary. The beauty of the pair is the triumph in this work of art.

"Take it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's fine. I wanted to do something big with a seahorse for a while. I might be able to sell these, put some money in the bank."

"I don't know what to say." I'm still admiring it.

"I can paint another one," she offers sincerely.

"Well, thank you. Hey, Edward told me to bring you over for a drink later. Do you want to go?"

She narrows her eyes. "No, he knows I won't go over there. He's playing a game. I don't set foot in that bloody Caravan. I want nothing to do with what goes on in there."

"What _does_ go on in there? Is Rosalie in danger?"

"No, not from Emmett. He's a good bloke. I've never understood their friendship really. Rose is safe because she's with Emmett and because she can keep her trap shut about the drugs and the sex. Edward's… just take my word for it. You can still be friendly, but do not get involved with him. Oh, and he doesn't fraternize with us staff at Island Night."

I frown at how much she said, but how little it reveals, and I look around this pretty room, deciding her simple advice is probably very wise. It makes me wonder if there is history between them.

"Um, do you mind if I use our beautiful clean bathroom now? I'm starting early tomorrow."

I apologize for lingering and thank her again when she hands me the canvas to take back. Propping it up on the bed against the wall, I can't help but enjoy the pleasure of seeing where it will soon live.

A short while later, there is a knock on my door, and a very excited Rosalie announces that she's made her decision to get out of Slink and move into the Caravan, inviting me to her welcome party tonight. I fake a yawn, telling her I'm tired. It feels like she has abandoned me. She knows we could have shared this room, but she's chosen _him_.

Hearing our shower start, I say I'm sorry, but I really have to go to bed, having no wish to party tonight. Disappointed, she gives up and leaves, and I watch until she pulls open the screen door and climbs up into the Caravan, turning to give me a small wave before I close my door.

I lean against the back of the door, and there's another knock that startles me. When I open it, Edward pokes his face in, too close to mine.

"You're not coming?"

I shake my head, taking a step back, and answer, "Too tired."

He slides in uninvited, closes the door behind him and looks around, nodding towards the sound of the shower. "Is that Tanya?" He turns the doorknob, finding it locked. "That's one of hers?" He points to the painting and studies it, a smile forming on his face. "She's brilliant."

Just his presence in my room makes me nervous. "Jesus, when you said you had no luxuries, you meant it." When I don't respond, he sits on the bed and looks at the painting, running his hand over the fresh sheets. "Do you want me to hang it for you?"

"I'll do it."

"Come over for a drink, Bella."

I shake my head again, and he shrugs before walking out, leaving the door open. People have arrived now, standing around on the grass with drinks.

I lay in my bed listening to the growing laughter and music, thinking I will ask Edward to get me some earplugs on his next supply run.

* * *

Rosalie, Emmett, and I trek to the end of the beach path and spot a small group of staff. Apparently, very few guests come to this remote side of the island so we have it to ourselves. As we get closer, I can't help giggling as their heads pop up like the meerkats from Animal Planet.

Edward is sitting at one end, running his hands through his wet hair, an empty towel laid out next to him. We drop our stuff down at the other end of the group, and I look out at the glistening ocean, seeing someone swimming alone.

Emmett introduces me to everyone, some of whom I've met before, but never like this. I avert my eyes nervously because there is not a tan line in sight - everyone is naked - and I have never been nude in public.

Emmett strips off, and Rosalie unties her sarong, showing she has nothing on underneath. She must see the look on my face because she says quietly, "It's okay, Bella. Wear the bikini if you want to. Nobody here cares."

Getting my ass burned on my first day in the sun sounds like stupidity so I decide to keep my swimsuit on. I feel eyes on me when I pull my sundress over my head, and I lay down on my stomach, taking out my book. The slight breeze makes this beautiful day perfect. It flicks at my hair, tickling my back.

Suddenly I hear Edward's voice. "Did you know Bella came to my bar for the first time last night?"

As I turn to him, they all look as if there is something seriously wrong with me. My shoulders rise as I try to defend myself. "I don't want to spend any money! I'm trying to save to go to Europe!"

Garrett pipes up. "Oh, so you're one of those."

My eyes land back on Edward, spreading the towel out next to him and looking at the water.

"One of those what, Garrett?"

He answers in a whiny voice, "'Can I borrow a piece of gum, a cigarette?' then expecting everyone else to pay?"

"Nooooo!" I sing back indignantly.

"Oh, leave her alone, guys!" Rosalie chastises.

I now see who Edward was looking at. She is pretty and curvy, walking up to him, naked and dripping wet from the ocean, wringing the water out of her hair. Rosalie introduces her as Bree, and she lays down on the towel next to him and sighs happily. He turns to face her, propped up on an elbow, and puts his thigh between her legs as they smile at each other, sharing a private moment. I can't take my eyes off his body.

I'm looking at his balls.

Bree raises her hand to play with his hair, and he slowly runs his hand down her arm, ending up on her breast, pressing his thumb into her nipple. Pulling him down for a kiss, I see their tongues connect. She grabs a chunk of his hair as he squeezes her breast.

I have to drag my eyes away, embarrassed by the pulse throbbing between my legs, only looking back when they start to chuckle. She leans over, picking up her sarong and throwing it to him, the same sarong I saw draped around his hips through the Caravan screen door. He plops it down in his lap, probably covering an erection, and he glances up at me and smiles.

Feeling like the biggest pervert, I know I should stop staring at them. She stands, holding her hand out to him, and I hear him say, "No man can resist the way you do that. You're perfect."

He clutches the sarong to him, standing and turning away before wrapping his towel around his hips. They pick up their stuff and wave goodbye. She is still naked as they walk off, and I watch him cover her shoulders with the sarong and lean down tenderly to speak to her.

As she nods her head, I want to be her. I want him to talk to me just like that, and then do to me whatever he is about to do to her. They literally disappear into the vegetation along the beach, and we don't see them again.

Even though Emmett is technically Edward's boss, it's obvious that Edward is the leader, and it feels more free after he leaves. Without Edward naked in front of me, I can relax and enjoy the sun, without trying not to ogle him, and get to know the others. We all float and laugh in an ocean without waves, and I start to feel comfortable with these people on this glorious afternoon.

The guys begin throwing a tennis ball and fighting for it, so Rosalie and I get out to dry off. She kneels next to me with her towel around her, and I hear her take a big breath before she speaks.

"Bella, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I saw you watching Edward and Bree. Please tell me you're not crushing on Edward because I know he's gorgeous, but he's not boyfriend material, honey."

I feel so embarrassed that it's obvious to her and probably everyone else who saw me watching him with a look of longing on my face.

"I know. Tanya told me to stay away from him."

She angles her head and looks curious. "I mean it, Bella."

"Don't worry… I need to ask him to buy me some earplugs anyway. I'll see if he can bring back a rabbit and big box of batteries."

She starts giggling and falls over, her laughter making me crack up too.

Two nights later, Edward knocks on my door not long after I come home.

"Join me for a drink, Bella. I'm buying."


	2. Chapter 2

To Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley, biggest thanks possible. You're wonderful. You girls don't know what you mean to me.

***For those who didn't catch this comment last week, the beginning of this story is an expanded version of a one shot I posted ages ago.

* * *

 **Chapter** **2**

Edward's invitation to join him for a drink is like a command.

"No, I'm just going to read."

"Come down… please? I'm going crazy with the Three Musketeers down there. I want someone to talk to, and no one's around."

"Uh… no… it's not a good idea."

"Says who?"

"Me."

He shakes his head slowly and grumbles, "Thanks." He sprints back, and I watch him, feeling like a total bitch.

I have a shower, drying my hair slowly and straightening it, thinking about how tender he was with Bree on the beach. Maybe I should accept since he's lonely. I sit on the bed with my book and look at the detail of the painting, now hung courtesy of two thumbtacks, a nail, some string and a borrowed hammer from one of the maintenance men.

Reading the same paragraph, over and over, I'm warring with myself, remembering what Tanya said: "You can still be friendly."

Swapping my pajamas for jeans and a loose fitting t-shirt, I wear no makeup or perfume, so there will be no mistaking why I'm there. I'll accept his offer of a drink, keep him company, and then come back. After a couple of fortifying breaths, I lock my door and walk to the staff bar.

When I see the smile on his face, I nearly stumble. It's his real smile, not the smug one or his sexy smirk. It makes him look even more handsome when it lingers as he brings his stool around for me to sit on.

"Thank you." He grins again and kisses my cheek. I try to hide the rush of adrenaline with a tiny smile.

"I got thirsty."

Still smiling, he leans forward on the bar in his signature stance, and his eyes sparkle as he looks over my face. "Whatever you want, Bella, it's yours."

I sit back on the stool and think about it. "Tell me something about Edward first. Do you have family?"

"Father and sister."

 _Oh, something has happened to his mother. I might leave that alone for now._

"You?"

"Just parents, no siblings."

He straightens up, looking relieved. "Well, I'm glad we got that out of the way. Now that we're friends, what can I get you to drink?"

I give up on any more personal questions. "I don't know - surprise me." I beckon him over with a finger. He leans in close, and I say very low, "No rum."

He glances at the three regulars who are staring into their drinks. "I already picked that."

Taking a step back, he crosses his arms and looks me over, as if I'm giving him inspiration. "Hmm, well, you smell like strawberries, and I know you have lemon in your tea."

"How do you know about the lemon?" _How does he know? The coffee and tea are at the far end of the room._

"I have eyes." He turns, surveying his ingredients. "Now... we need something to sweeten it up, to balance the flavor. Oh, I know, I've got it!"

He drops strawberries into a tiny blender, holding the top and blitzing for a couple of seconds. His shirt straining against his back captures my attention until he turns to me, pops another strawberry into his mouth, and raises his eyebrows mischievously, smiling as he chews.

I watch his hands as he deftly slices through a lemon and squeezes it into a metal shaker, straining it through his fingers to catch the seeds. Then measures of syrup and two other things I can't make out join the lemon.

The blended strawberries go in, he adds ice, and then shakes it all together. Placing a glass in front of me, he pours in the deep red concoction. Then the rest of it goes back into the blender and he slides a straw into the glass, holding his hands palms up. "Try it."

This has been so entertaining, I'm disappointed it's over, but I take a sip. My mouth washes with a fresh taste, sweet and tangy with an underlying charge that he is going to have to explain. "What's the alcohol?" I ask, twirling the straw.

"Gin and port."

"It's really delicious." I suck on the straw again, and it goes down like cold liquid candy. Maybe I've finally found my poison.

Edward tips out the ice, quickly rinses everything, and places them upturned on a fresh bar runner. He leans forward and watches me drink, making me feel self-conscious.

"So, Edward, where did you go to college?"

"I didn't go."

"How come?"

"Money issues."

I feel my shoulders slump. "Oh, that's a shame."

"Never mind. How about you?"

"Yeah, Seattle, English major. I hope to get a job on a newspaper in London. I want that experience."

He continues to watch me talk with eyes that react to my expressions.

"I think you'll do it. You remind me a lot of myself. You have goals, and you'll do whatever it takes to reach them. Going without a glass of Coke for over two weeks takes willpower."

He is so funny. I try to drink some more and find my glass is empty, so he grabs the shaker, pours fresh ice in, and the rest of the drink. He shakes it again before straining it into my glass, repeating all the rinsing and cleaning.

"That's nice gin and port, Edward. Why are you so flirty? Doesn't Bree mind that you dally with other girls?"

"I dally, do I?" he says with a chuckle. "I'm not _with_ Bree, Bella. I'm not with anyone, but I do like brown-eyed girls."

He's not going to put me off with his flattery. "Coulda fooled me. You two looked very… close."

"We are close."

He thinks he can confuse me, but I'm on to him. I shake my finger in his direction, but I can't work out what I was supposed to say, so I laugh at his silliness. "You're trying to bamboozle me with your red red drink and your cryptic words. You know... some of my favorite words are used cryptically."

"Good to know." He beams his beautiful smile at me. I think I may have sighed, and I hope he didn't notice.

"You _should_ have gone to college," I say, frowning. "What a waste."

"Never mind."

"Why was that again?" I don't remember his answer from... oh boy... minutes ago.

"Money, darling."

"What's 'money darling'?"

He starts to laugh at me. Now he is being rude for no reason. It's just a question. Jeez.

"Where's my drink?"

"You finished it, see?" He holds up the empty glass. I could have sworn I only had a couple of sips of the second one.

"Oops."

"I'll take you to bed."

"Uh… I think I might be a little too drunk to have sex."

He surrounds my waist with his strong arm and helps me stand. "Will you guys mind the bar for a sec?"

I wave my fingers at the three drunks who all look amused. They wave back, and I start to giggle. "You're funny, Edward. You're leaving three alcoholics in charge of your bar."

That is the sum total of my memory of the evening. I wake up with a start and a fuzzy head, wearing my t-shirt and no jeans, with the key to the room next to the bed.

I have a vague recollection of a discussion about Island Night. I can't remember the actual words though, only that it is tonight.

The worst part is that I do remember mistaking Edward's gallantry for an offer of sex, and I pretty much agreed to it. For that reason, I don't want to face him.

Two Tylenols go down with a bottle of water that magically appeared, and after a hot shower, I start to feel human again. Brushing my teeth twice and gargling helps. So does taking everything slow.

I am just about to get dressed for work when there's a knock on my door. Edward is sitting on the chair out front, his long legs taking up most of my tiny patio area.

"Morning," I manage, hearing the change from my normal voice. I'm going to have gargle again. "Are you here for a reason, Edward?"

"Just checking out what it would be like to live up here, that's all. How are you feeling?" I nod and clear my voice, knowing he isn't asking for the specifics of my hangover. He slides his legs around and faces me. "I didn't mean to get you drunk last night. I've never seen anyone go downhill that fast."

I have to ask the obvious question. "Um… who undressed me?"

"Do you think I took advantage of you?" His eyebrows pop up just enough to make me nervous.

Timidly, I answer, "No, I… just wondered."

"You were fully clothed when I left. Rosalie looked after you. She stayed for a while to make sure you were okay, and I checked on you."

"Thank you."

He stands and says, "Well, I gotta get ready for work. Don't forget you agreed to stay away from Island Night tonight."

"What? No. I'm looking forward to going."

"No, no, no, Bella. You promised me." _Why is he frowning at me like that?_

"Don't be ridiculous. I _am_ going!"

He suddenly glares at me furiously. "Do what you want, but don't you fucking come near me!" He storms off into to the caravan and slams the screen door behind him.

 _Jesus! Is this Edward when he doesn't get his own way? What a prick! Well, I'll show him. This is my island as much as it is his._

By 10:00 pm, Rosalie and I are almost ready to head down to the main bar. I put another treatment in my hair to make it shiny, and I go to a lot of trouble to make my eyes look good. Wearing my best dress and my highest heels, I'm hoping he'll come up and beg my forgiveness. Then I'll tell him not to come anywhere near me, and I'll enjoy it. Fuck _him_.

Edward is behind us because he closes the staff bar at 10:30 on Friday nights. We watch him stride into the main bar as if he owns the place, wearing a dress shirt and dark slacks, going straight up for a beer. I see him work the room, chatting with guests, and leaving with a few of them, probably offloading some of his drugs.

Only talking to men down here, he spends a lot of time with each one before moving on. He sits with a couple of them for at least half an hour before he points out Bree and goes over to get her. She is friendly with the men and doesn't engage Edward at all. One man in particular is interested, and after he buys a couple of bottles of booze, she leaves with him, their body language making their destination obvious.

My mouth drops open in disbelief. Edward said they were close, and he's just let her go off with another man. He's pimped her out even.

I am on my feet before I know it, approaching him at the bar, boiling over his disgraceful behavior.

"Go away." He speaks in a low voice, looking around us nervously.

Screwing up my eyes, I react. "Too late, Edward. I already saw you. I can't believe what you just did."

He takes a couple of steps back and says quietly, "I told you not to come near me when we're down here."

I move towards him, wanting to make it very clear what I think of him, ready for a fight. "Sorry?"

He snaps and looms over me with only an inch between our faces when he growls, "Can't you hear? I said leave me alone!" He turns to one of the guests and shakes his head, his eyes closing in frustration.

"You're an asshole," I retaliate like a mouse with only half a voice.

"Yeah, I'm an asshole. Now fuck off."

He rejoins the guests and says something about me because they all turn towards me. Then I see him circle a finger around his ear, indicating I am crazy? Looking at Garrett, who gives nothing away, I hold my composure, needing the safety of Rosalie and Emmett. I don't know what had just happened, what he gets from humiliating me in front of guests. He certainly doesn't like getting caught, and he acts as if he wouldn't be seen dead with me in the real world. I have no idea why.

Emmett's explanation is that Edward doesn't want anyone getting in the way when he is doing business on Island Night, so I should keep my distance. Over the next hour, I watch Edward occasionally, talking to everyone, leaving to do more business, sometimes stopping at the bar for a drink. He never glances over at me, and after two different men proposition me, I say I want to leave. Rosalie and Emmett are happy to go, so we walk up the hill together.

I lie in bed, upset with myself for not listening to Tanya and Rosalie, and letting him get under my skin.

The next morning as I am coming out of the shower, Rosalie calls and tells me she is starting her period, asking me if I will stop at the Caravan to get her toiletries bag and bring it down before I start my shift.

I'm numb after lying awake half the night, trying to understand Edward's behavior, and realizing we could never be friends. Opening the Caravan door, I climb in, not looking towards his room, turning right and finding the bag where she said it would be. Coming out, his door is wide open, and I see him naked in bed, tangled up with two girls who have obviously stayed the night. They all look like they are shattered. I rush out of there, letting the door bang as the emotion rushes up my throat.

How I got through that hectic morning without crying, I'll never know. At lunch, I just grab some fruit and take it back to my room.

I have to go over to the kitchen to collect some timesheets, and I spy a golf cart holding boxes of what looks like alcohol. My curiosity gets to me, wondering if someone has left them there by mistake, and I poke in the boxes to see what they contain, hearing his unmistakable voice behind me. "Are you looking for something in particular?" Edward asks, coming out of one of the suites with another two bottles.

"Are you stealing alcohol from the rooms now?" My God, he flaunts every rule in the place. I realize I don't know him at all.

"Only the checkouts… I'm just cleaning up." He doesn't look at me while packing the bottles in the box.

"Is this your job on Saturdays?"

He looks up with an expression that tells me again to go away. "I don't work on Saturday, Bella."

I turn and head for the kitchen, disgusted, knowing that everything I've heard about him is true. He is unbelievable, selling drugs, acting as a pimp for members of the female staff, and now thieving bottles of booze for who knows what purpose, probably selling them too.

The last twenty-four hours have been a revelation. Now I know he is a petty criminal, preying on women and people with addictions. My father brought me up to despise his kind. He has brains, but he chooses this lifestyle instead of doing something worthwhile with his life, and I can't stop thinking about what a waste it is. With his looks and charisma, he could do anything he wanted.

* * *

Two weeks pass while we ignore each other. I keep my eyes trained on the ground whenever I pass by the Caravan, focusing on my trip and my growing bank balance.

Edward leaves the island for one of his supply runs, but I don't ask him to get me anything.

Making friends with a few of the housemaids, I can't find anyone I really click with, and my hours of work don't seem to match anyone else's. I find that getting up early for a swim and a lie in the morning sun is invigorating before my shift starts. Rosalie comes over after work, usually as I'm getting ready for bed, but just like Tanya, I don't want anything to do with what goes on in the Caravan.

As we become closer, I seek Tanya's company more than anyone else's, especially when she is painting. She has an incredible gift, able to fill a canvas with life so fast she amazes me. I feel like that person who knew her before she became famous.

As a thank you for keeping the bathroom spotless, she gives me another painting, a close-up of the face of a huge fish, his black eye a wonderful contrast to his orange-toned flesh and the blue of the water. He has a smug expression, making me smile when I look at him. I wonder if she painted him that way to cheer me up, even though I have never discussed Edward with anyone.

Then one night when I return from work, there is something covered in an old towel on the chair next to my door. It's a television. There's no note and, when I lift it up, there's a tiny plastic bag containing yellow safety earplugs.

* * *

It takes me two days to summon the courage to ask Edward if he supplied the television. He is cleaning the bar with his back to me when I approach, and he looks surprised to see me.

"Coke in a big glass, no ice?"

"Yes, please."

He produces it quickly, popping a long straw in this time, and once again, my craving is sated. Seeing his face up close is almost overwhelming.

"Did you give me the television?"

"Yeah, it was Bree's. She left a few days ago." He says it matter-of-factly as he cleans some invisible spill from his bar.

"Well, I don't want it."

He stops cleaning but doesn't look up. "Give it to someone else then, or sell it." Then he continues polishing the stainless steel counter.

"And the earplugs?"

His eyes shoot up, but they're soft. "Rosalie might have mentioned you wanted them."

 _Thank God, she didn't mention the rabbit._

"Well, thanks. What do I owe you?"

He starts polishing again and then rinses the cloth, wringing it out and shaking it. He finally stands and faces me, his eyes boring into mine. "Thank you for not saying anything to management about me."

"It never entered my mind."

His shoulders drop as if he's finally given in to something. "Bella, I'm sorry. I want to explain."

It kills me to see those beautiful green eyes when I know what's behind them. "How could you possibly explain?"

"Come back when I finish my shift, and let me try." He turns his head slightly as if the gesture will convince me to say yes.

Looking at his expression, begging me to see he is genuine, I cave. I agree to come back at eleven.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks again to Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley, who've been molding and tweaking this into a proper story. You are simply the best. 3 3 3

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

Back in my room, I stare at the television I haven't plugged in yet, even though Tanya told me to be grateful and just use it. I'm wondering over its significance, especially now I know it was from Edward. He blew it off as nothing, but I can't help thinking that he meant it as an olive branch.

Why does he bother, and even more, why does he still draw me in? There's something about him, another side he tries to keep hidden, like the most popular guy who's secretly lonely.

The nerves are building, thinking about going down to that bar, hearing his explanation, and wondering if I'll even comprehend it, but I can't go on ignoring him like this. He shares the Caravan with my best friend, right outside my door.

I walk in there, just before eleven, and meet another one of his genuine smiles. Edward is locking up the bar and points toward the adjacent golf course, now bathed in moonlight.

"Come and I'll show you somewhere really special." When I hesitate, he adds, "You can trust me, you know, and you said you'd let me explain. I promise we're just going to talk."

Taking a big breath and nodding, I follow him as we climb to the top of the hill and sit on the grass overlooking the fairways and the small stretch of ocean that divides us from the mountains of the mainland. It's stunningly beautiful, and I'm surprised I haven't been up here yet during the day.

"When I first started in the main bar, the "Nocturnal Barman's Club" used to meet up here. All those people have left now."

"Was it fun?"

"It was. A couple of them had guitars and bucketloads of talent. We came up here so no one would complain about the noise while we got drunk, and this older man would sometimes appear out of nowhere and watch. See that cabin over there?" Edward points to our right where I can just make out a dim light through curtains. "That's the head greenkeeper's place. He lives on mung beans. There's big bags of them in there and pretty much nothing else."

"I've only ever seen him once." I've heard about the man who's been working here for fifteen years, and now I know where he goes, because he never comes into the staff village.

"He's been here so long now he's institutionalized. They'll take him out of there in a box."

I can't imagine where he's going with this conversation, so I keep quiet, enjoying the moonlit beauty around me. Edward's profile is dramatic in the silver light as he looks forward.

"Look, Bella," he says, turning to me. "I know you think I'm scum. I saw it in your eyes."

Startled by his directness, I stumble over my words. "I… I don't. I just don't understand you."

"I don't want this life I'm in, but I have no choice."

I snort at his too-easy reply. "Everyone has choices, Edward." _Who is he kidding?_

He sighs, then runs a hand through his hair. "I have this huge debt hanging over me. It's eighty grand, and believe me, that's the tip of the iceberg."

The enormity of those figures really makes me think. I look at him with his elbows resting on his knees, and he looks beaten. I have to fight the urge to put a hand on his back.

"With my shitty education and minimum wage jobs, I fell into dealing drugs quickly. I've been doing that since I was seventeen, and it is pretty lucrative."

"God, Edward… seventeen." It's a tragedy.

"Yeah, well, you do what you gotta do. If it wasn't me, someone else would be supplying. The thing with the girls just kinda happened. I used to talk to these guys at the main bar. Most of them had girlfriends or wives back home, and they seemed to want the same thing – a nice girl who didn't go on about her own crap - mainly someone who would say yes. They were all decent men who just needed to feel wanted for one night."

He looks at me for a minute and watches how I take this in. I think he knows by now he can trust me.

"It was Tanya who was the catalyst for what happened. Her gardener friend had been gone for a while, and she was lonely. She turned up at Island Night ready for action and ended up sleeping with one of the guests - nothing to do with me.

"The next morning she called me, crying from his room. I found her sitting on the bed, pointing to what he'd left her without even saying goodbye. It was five hundred bucks, and she wouldn't touch it, saying she wasn't a hooker, so I took it. I wasn't leaving it there."

While I can't imagine how Tanya felt, I can see him scooping up the money without even blinking.

"I saw an opportunity to set these guys up with what they wanted and you'd be surprised how many girls flirted with the idea of making easy money. Of course, some went ahead, and some chickened out, never turning up at Island Night, and I quickly upped the ante, saying the girls usually got a grand. It was amazing how many men hit the ATM without hesitation.

"Now I charge them extra for dope and cocaine and tell them to buy a couple of bottles of the expensive stuff to get the girls going. They hardly ever open it, and as far as I'm concerned, it's up for grabs once they check out. "

"Jeez, Edward, you're all about money. Don't you worry about the girls getting hurt? That would be my first concern."

"No, I always choose the guys who say they've never done this before, the ones who are hesitant at first. I figure if they have good jobs, long-term girlfriends or wives, they are a safe bet."

"Edward, while I in no way condone any of this, it's not the crime that upsets me most. It was seeing you set Bree up and send her off to who knows what. Didn't you have any feelings for her? You certainly looked like you did."

"I trained Bree, like I trained all the others. I show them how to make a man feel special, to make his little dream come true. We're not talking kinky stuff, and they all go into this with eyes wide open. Let's get this straight - I never force anyone.

"These guys just want someone who'll get naked with them, and let them have some fun. Most times, it's just one fuck, and they always use condoms provided by moi. The girls know they can call me anytime, and I'll rescue them. So far it's never happened, and there haven't been any complaints. Seriously, I've done so much research that I'm confident I can pick the right customers. I'm very good at reading people now."

"Were you training those two girls in the Caravan? I saw you in bed with them."

"I know. I saw you too. No, they were for me. I was pent up that night after what happened. I thought I made it clear not to come near me, and you just went ahead and did it anyway! I only had Bree available, and the sharks were circling, so your vicinity to me put you in danger. I'm sorry I'm not good when I'm backed into a corner, Bella. I had to tell them you were a nut case because, shit, you looked so gorgeous that they all asked about you. I had to shock you to protect you."

Thinking about what happened, it never occurred to me that he was protecting me.

"Did you ever think I would be one of your girls? You certainly gave me the creeps when I first came here."

"Yes." He nods his head and starts to chuckle. "You were talking about going without glasses of Coke, and I was thinking how much money you could make. I could get you a gig every Island Night if you wanted it. I know I could ask two grand for you and get it. Hell, I'd pay it. You'd be outta here in ten weeks."

 _He might be bright, but his math is not great._ "Ten weeks?"

"I take half."

"Half? Jesus, you're not the one on your back!"

"Doesn't happen without me," he says with a laugh.

I smack his shoulder lightly, amazed he can be so cocky, and then I wonder about him needing so much money.

"What's the eighty-grand debt, Edward?"

He looks away, shutting me down. "I'm not talking about that."

"Well… why _didn't_ you proposition me?"

He studies me for a minute before answering.

"I don't want you mixed up in this. Anyway, I'm damn sure you'd say no."

"You got that right, Cullen."

He stands up and sighs. "Come on, let's go." He holds his hand out to help me up and asks, "Do you still hate me?" As soon as I'm on my feet, he kisses my hand as if he already has his answer.

"I don't know. Let me think about it."

* * *

Gradually, I warm to him. He races up to my room, asks me to come down for a drink, and when I say no, he comes back with a glass of Coke and leaves it. I guess you can say he wears me down by being nice.

One day he comes to the office straight after lunch. "Can I use your computer to place an order?"

"What kind of order?" I look at him warily. "Are you going to get me into trouble?"

"Do you think I buy cocaine on the web?" he whispers and laughs. "I'm just restocking the bar."

His phone chimes with a message, and he reads it, dropping his head with his eyes closed. When he looks at me, he's happy.

"What's happened?"

"My kid sister started junior high. She's twelve."

 _Twelve. She's so young to be his sister._ "Wow, that's a big age gap."

"Yeah, ten years."

He shakes his head as if he can't believe it, but he floors me. Only twenty-two, he is just a year older than I am. I thought he was older.

Edward and I start to spend nights together at the staff bar, and I enjoy watching the methodical way he keeps everything clean and tidy, ready for his next customer. He even allows me to come around to his side and make cocktails when it's quiet.

He teaches me how to handle myself on Island Night, what to say to put the men off, and I never go near him down there. He continues to sell his drugs, and he now has two new girls, Kate and Jane, to look after the guests. If he's trained them, he doesn't flaunt the fact in front of me, and we never discuss what they do together.

When we are alone, we talk about our dreams – places, ideas, and plans. He's given up on the idea of college, but he wants his own business one day, maybe even his own bar. I tell him he'll be wonderful, and I mean it.

Thursday afternoons we always spend outdoors together when the weather is good, and we sometimes kayak all the way to our secluded beach. I only have to say once that I don't think it's appropriate if he goes naked, and we never have to mention it again.

The parties in the Caravan are exactly what I thought they would be. People drink to excess and smoke themselves stupid. There is always a lot of clowning around, and no one ever cares if someone breaks something, starts taking their clothes off, or sings loudly at three in the morning. Edward has been guilty of all three, especially when they start playing the blues.

People organize theme nights at the staff bar occasionally, and Edward joins in, dressing accordingly. Often he's bare chested, maybe adding a straw hat or bandana, working his ass off, filling lines of shots glasses and pitchers of beer. Emmett will help out when he's finished his shift, and the two of them shirtless behind the bar is really something to see. The guests don't know the entertainment they're missing up here.

The alcohol at these affairs leads to the strangest pairings where secret attractions reveal themselves, through dancing and making out in public. The couples are so cute when they're embarrassed the next day.

In many ways, blowing off steam like this is necessary, but we avoid all parties that happen on the night of the full moon. I would never have believed in moon madness had I not seen it myself, intensified in this kind of isolation. After an afternoon of drinking on their day off, Garrett and Tyler both lost their jobs when they took jet skis, riding the dark ocean right out front of the resort. Apparently, the guests thought it was hilarious, but the boys were gone the next morning, just like that. Since I've been here, another six people have met the same fate under the moon's gravitational pull.

The full moon is in the sky when Edward takes me dancing on the golf course. He asks me if I'd be his girlfriend if he didn't have all this shit in his life, and the answer is easy. I say yes without hesitation, and he kisses me. When his tongue moves on mine and he pulls me closer, I realize the danger I'm in from his physical presence, but I want him so badly, I moan. He releases me, and we look at each other, hungry, panting and shocked.

The next day we talk seriously about the future. He is from Chicago, and I'm from Seattle. I want to work in London and maybe stay there. He still has the debt he refuses to discuss. Love, marriage, and children are things I see in my future. We know it won't work in the real world.

We walk on the beach at sunset, and he asks me to leave the island with him, to share a day away together, to pretend it _could_ work. When I say yes, he kisses me so reverently, I think I'll die when he stops.

As we check our orders for our supply run, Edward promises he isn't buying drugs. We've never talked about that side of his life. When we are together, we are just Bella and Edward, and we can be anything we want.

Catching a boat to the mainland, we drive up the coast in a car he borrows from a man he supplies drugs to. The playlist is Van Morrison all the way, and I sink back in my seat, listening to "Moondance." I laugh when Edward begins to sing along with "Baby Please Don't Go," grinning as he dances with his shoulders and hands on the steering wheel. With the wind in his hair, he looks so young and carefree. When "Someone Like You" plays, all I see is a waste. I have to look away, so he doesn't see the tears that threaten to spill out of my eyes.

It takes us an hour to overflow a shopping cart with everything on our list, and Edward stands with his arm around me at the checkout, like we are a real couple. We pack the bags into the trunk, and after a long kiss, we drive into the city, looking forward to a lunch where we don't have to rush.

I know I'm falling in love with him, enjoying one of the happiest days of my life, when Edward recognizes a man across the street, a slow shake of his head answering some unspoken question. I hear the "fuck" from under his breath, and after that, he is completely different. He watches his back as if there is someone following us. His grasp of my hand is tighter, his steps a little faster, the easygoing feeling of the day gone.

He steers me into a hotel with a busy bistro area overlooking the water, telling me with a forced smile that the food is always good here, finding us a table smack in the middle. I have this horrible feeling that we are using a public place for protection, and it doesn't take long to find out that I'm right.

An extra chair appears, and the same man sits down with us. He smells like aniseed and sweat. "Who do we have here?"

Edward scans the room, bristling, and replies, "I'm not working. Get the fuck out. Another time."

"You're always working," the man says, running his eyes over me. "And I'm definitely interested in this one."

Sucking in a breath, my heart starts pounding. I look sideways at Edward, seeing an ominous vein pulsing in his neck. He covers the back of my chair with his arm, leaning forward across me slowly in a threatening manner, and without a hint of emotion, he says, "This one's not for sale." He doesn't move. He waits on the reaction from a man more than twice his age.

The man sits back, playing with a heavy gold bracelet around his wrist, and I see the shiny skin of his head through a thin comb-over. With a smirk, he looks up.

"Everyone's for sale, Eddie." He chuckles softly and looks around the restaurant. "I think you two had better come with me before things get ugly in front of all these nice families. I'm only after my compensation for the last unfortunate incident if you remember."

Edward's eyes narrow as he looks at the man, gauging his intent. I can feel the vibrations of his legs nervously rattling under the table while he decides what to do. After a few seconds, he answers, "Look, I have it. Just leave her out of it."

"You want to leave her here while we do business?" the man asks as he stands. He puts both hands on the table and rocks forward, leering at me. "Who knows what could happen?" Then he bends down and speaks to Edward. "Better come to the Marlin Room. It's nice and private." He smiles at me and turns away, sliding the chair back.

Once he is gone, I can finally breathe again. Edward looks so pained that I have to touch his cheek, but he grabs my wrist, jolting me.

"Don't! You say nothing, do nothing, until we get out of here, okay?"

The slap of his sharp words crash into me, and I flinch. This is serious. He's drawn me into his world, the very thing he's been avoiding, and now people are looking up from their plates.

I respond, trying to hide my growing panic from him. "Sure. Say nothing, do nothing. Gotcha."

"I mean it, Bella, no matter what happens, don't react. Just keep cool, and let me handle it."

"I'll try," I answer with a voice swallowed up in fear.

He looks at me deeply for a few seconds, and then makes his decision. "Okay, let's get this over with," he says, standing and taking my hand.


	4. Chapter 4

Bonus chapter - just because - thanks to Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley. Love you girls!

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

A huge guard holds the door open for us to enter a room where the licorice sweat stench clings to the air. The man is looking out the window, surveying the boats at the marina. The light refracting from the ripples on the water enhances his features, and I notice his ear. It's mostly missing.

"Come in and sit down, Eddie. You know I don't want the money." His eyes linger on my jeans, making me shiver. "Just an hour with your girlfriend, and we'll call it square."

My hand automatically jerks as the need to escape rattles me. The guard is blocking the exit, and Edward shoots his eyes sideways briefly, showing nothing, but I can feel the tension in his hand squeezing mine.

"She's not into that game. She's just a friend of mine, and you won't lay a finger on her as long as I'm alive."

"Which finger?" the man asks, as he tilts up my jaw. "This one?"

Edward explodes, shoving the man backwards and ripping my hand out of his grasp. He holds his shirt and yanks him back, holding him eyeball to eyeball. The guard moves up, but the man puts his hands up to calm everyone down. Edward pushes him away and wipes his hands on his jeans. "Don't fucking touch her again."

The man shrugs his clothes back into position, calmly nodding to the guard, and says, "I think you need to learn some respect, Eddie."

The guard hooks his hand around my neck, forcing me back onto his chest. His fingers grip my throat, and I try to hold on to the words Edward said. "Don't react. Just keep cool."

"You need to earn my respect," Edward says calmly. The man raises his eyebrows slightly, and that tiny mannerism strikes fear into my heart. My knees give out slightly.

Edward's eyes dart between the two men, then he accelerates, drawing a small pistol from his pocket and jamming it onto the forehead of the man. Holding the back of the man's neck, Edward glares at the guard who hesitates, not sure what to do. He looks like he's gauging the timing of his action against the speed of a bullet through the head of his employer.

Then Edward does something unexpected. He pulls the trigger. A bullet doesn't fire, but it may as well have. Their eyes. I'll never forget the shock in their eyes when he does it. Edward's are playful but full of promise.

"It's your lucky day," he deadpans.

"You fucker," the man scowls and stumbles back, obviously shaken to the core.

Edward takes a step toward the guard, glances at his gun, and says, "Still two left, how's your luck?"

The guard drops his hold on me, letting Edward pull me behind him, keeping the gun pointed at them as we back away.

"I told you not to lay a finger on her. It's your own fucking fault."

The man is breathing hard, his rage barely contained, with eyes black and piercing with hatred for Edward. "You'll pay for this."

"As long as she's safe, I don't give a shit." Edward throws a wad of money on a table and seethes, "We no longer do business. Now we're square."

"You're gone, Eddie." He shakes his head slowly, disgusted by the young man who shows no respect and flaunts his rules. "You can forget about doing any kind of business in this town."

"Fuck you," Edward retaliates, wanting the last word, screwing his face up viciously and raising his middle finger.

As soon as we're out the door, he has to hold me up because my legs are useless. God only knows what expression I have on my face through the restaurant, but I keep it together somehow until we are out in the air. Hyperventilating, I let him help me to the car, and we speed off with me crying, begging him to tell me the gun had no bullets, that they were playing a game.

He never answers. He looks at me a couple of times as we drive south from the city, eventually turning the radio on to drown out the overwhelming silence in the car.

"I have to know; who is this guy to you? Is he someone you buy drugs from?"

Edward almost spits out. "Are you kidding me? I couldn't trust him! No, he thinks he can muscle in and take a cut of the action on the island."

"The action?"

"Yeah, he contacted me, saying he wanted a girl for a customer. I told him straight up that we don't do things that way and that I'd have to meet the guy first, so he arranged it for a Friday night. They came down to the island together, and the guy was so disgusting that I said no."

Just the thought of it makes me shudder.

"He tried to tell me that wasn't an option, that he'd already told the customer that it was a done deal. I told him that wasn't my problem and walked away. I had other customers. Then the fucker finds me and offers me double, so I put it to Gemma."

He starts to chuckle and then speaks through his laughter, glancing over. "She took one look at him and said, 'Triple.' I guess you had to be there, but it was funny when she said it. I had to keep a straight face when I took back the offer, and I thought that would be the end of it."

Then the laughter ceases and turns into a frown. "I should have just stuck with my original 'no.' They called our bluff and coughed up the money, so she went with him."

"So why is he still threatening you?"

He shakes his head slightly and answers, "He must have stewed over the extra money because he called me and said I should offer to pay half. I told him to fuck off, that a deal was a deal. I've been on my own for a long time, and I don't know what the rules are so I make up my own. He thinks he can push me around because I'm young, and that's one of the reasons I pulled that trigger. I had to let him know I'm willing to protect what I have."

"So there were bullets in the gun."

He takes his eyes off the road and looks at me for the longest moment. "Bella, you have to forget this. I will deal with it."

I am reeling from the answer in his look. What he is capable of when cornered scares me. We hardly speak again on the drive back to the island.

Quietly, we sort the supplies in the Caravan, and people stop by to take delivery. We walk over to my room, and Edward lays down on the bed with his arm over his eyes. I join him, trying to relax, but when he looks at me, his eyes widen and he gasps.

"Your neck."

"What?"

"It's bruised." He touches me so tenderly, moving my hair away so he can see. He looks into my eyes, then kisses the bruises delicately, and my eyelids flutter shut from the sensation. He moves his lips along my jaw, reaching a spot below my ear, making me whimper. Then he drops his forehead to my shoulder in pain. "We can't go to the mainland together again."

I lift his head, pushing his hair back and kiss his cheek. "We'll stay here."

He shakes his head, and I see his emotion building. "I put you in danger today. I'm so sorry." He kisses my lips.

"No, you protected me." I kiss him back with more intensity.

"I can't let anything happen to you. I… I love you." His arms surround me, desperately holding me close.

"I love you too." He moves back to the spot below my ear, and I know I want to connect with him. "Touch me. Show me. Make love to me."

He does much more than that. He shows me what it feels like to be a woman in love – physically, mentally, spiritually.

It's dawn when the phone call comes that rips us apart. He says very little, asks a few questions, and hangs up. He throws on his clothes and then sits on the bed, looking serious.

"The police are on their way, Bella. Tell everyone to get rid of their drugs and go to work as normal. I have to disappear."

"Why?" I feel like I'm dreaming.

"He's paid someone off to trap me. I have to go."

"No!" I cling to him, but he leans down and tips my chin up to kiss me.

"Shhh, it's going to be okay. I'm gonna finish this."

"No… Edward, please don't go." I hug him again as if it will make him stay.

"Bella, I'll just keep putting you in danger."

I start to cry, and he leans down, kissing my tears, and then rocks me until I calm down.

"I really have to go. I love you."

Standing in my doorway, I watch him enter the Caravan. In the quiet of the early morning, I can hear doors sliding, drawers opening, and then voices. After a few minutes, he comes out with Emmett, and they embrace. He doesn't come back over to me. He just holds up his hand to say goodbye and then rushes off down the hill with a duffle bag over his shoulder. One of the kitchen staff sees him on the barge leaving for the mainland.

The arrival of the police surprises no one. When I am incapable of functioning, Emmett gets the word out, and it goes around the staff village like wildfire. By the time the cops arrive to do random searches, the whole place is clean. Everyone is very lucky, thanks to Edward's tip-off.

A temporary staff barman, named Embry, is in place by lunchtime. I take one look at him and walk out. I can't believe this is permanent, thinking Edward will soon be back, and I'll be able to breathe again. Then Emmett shows me what Edward left, an envelope with my name on it, like a parting gift I don't want to touch.

When Rosalie eventually talks me into opening it, I'm devastated, counting two thousand dollars and remembering the off-the-cuff remark he made about paying to sleep with me. That's when I break down and second-guess everything he's ever said. I want him to explain this right now but his phone keeps ringing, without even voicemail to take a message.

After sleeping in Edward's bed for a couple of nights with my phone close beside me, they kick me out when Embry becomes the new staff barman. He's been on the island for five weeks and dying to get out of Slink.

With no contact from Edward, I'm terrified that something has happened to him, knowing it's possible that he could have been killed within a day of leaving. No one else knows what went down when we were away from the island, and I don't want to involve anyone else. In my emotional state, I'm worried about who I can trust.

We all realize how little we knew of Edward Cullen. He told me he came from Chicago, but he never once mentioned the name of the suburb. We can't find him on Facebook, and it amazes me that none of us know the first name of his father or sister. His Italian grandmother was only ever "Nonna," and Edward told me his mother had died without ever saying her name. Emmett is no help, saying that Edward had always been secretive about his family.

It's clever how Edward avoided giving any of us a way to trace him. If things had been different, I could have gotten my father involved to help us track him down, but they weren't. It's just as well, because the hole he leaves makes me consider the reason I came here and whether it's more important than leaving to find him. I know he would want me to achieve my goal, but I can't seem to forget him like so many others who left like this - here one day and gone forever the next.

The man never comes back to the island, and as far as I know, the prostitution stopped when Edward left. There is always someone you can buy drugs from, but I've never gone looking for them anyway. Island Nights are just a drink after work on a Friday night now.

A dealer finally shows interest in Tanya's paintings, and she leaves for a few months in New York on her way home. She admits she feels partly responsible for what happened with Edward, but she also says he made his own choices. I tell her I'll look her up when I eventually get back to England.

Rosalie and Emmett move out of the Caravan and into her room. Having Rosalie cheer me up, reminding me why we are here, is the only thing that keeps me going.

People still gather at the Caravan, but it's never the same as when the charismatic boy from Chicago held court. Even though he was dangerous and certainly a criminal, Edward was the heart and soul of the place. He switched a few people onto Van Morrison while he was here, and when I hear someone playing his music, I wonder how I'll ever find a way to get over him.

The atmosphere in the staff village constantly changes, depending on the personalities who come to work here, but there is never another Edward. Cute guys arrive, gone in no time, and some of them flirt with me, but no one appeals. I prefer to keep to myself as much as I can.

Going through the motions, surviving on my growing bank balance, I try to look forward to visiting all the places that Edward and I talked of. It's easy to resist making new friends because I can't bear it when people leave anymore. Every time someone goes, they take a part of the place with them.

The last couple of weeks on the island are the hardest, knowing I have no way of letting Edward know we are leaving. He never sends a postcard, like so many others do, giving us snippets of their travels and where they are going next. I always look for them in the incoming mail and pin them to the notice board near the staff bar.

With only a week to go, I am ready to finish my shift and lock up when the phone rings at reception, and I have to take a deep breath to summon my best friendly greeting. When I hear nothing but static, I'm just about to hang up when he speaks.

"Bella?" The sound of wind howling in the background makes it even more difficult to hear.

Relief washes over me, finally hearing his voice. Thank God. "Edward?"

"I just called to say Merry Christmas."

"Where are you? Why didn't you let us know you were okay?"

"Sorry?"

"Where are you?"

The line goes dead.

Waiting for him to call back, I know his cell is disconnected, so there is no point trying to call him. I stand there glaring at the phone, willing it to ring, and then I wait a little longer.

Reluctantly, I know I have to divert it eventually and lock up. It feels like my heart is breaking all over again, but at least I know he's alive.

When it starts to ring, my heart thumps in my chest.

"Is that better?" The line is still crackly.

"Why didn't you call me? I've been worried sick about you."

"Why didn't you tell me your father was a cop?" The edge in his voice makes me suck in a breath and wait. "Huh?"

I can't find the words to answer.

"Your cover shot on Facebook, you know, the graduation picture? He's in uniform, Bella."

"It just never came up, did it?"

"You think he wouldn't track me down and string me up by the balls if he knew the danger I put you in?"

"I never told anyone what happened, and he doesn't need to know."

"And you let me fall in love with you."

The scar in my heart rips right open. "Then why did you leave that money for me? It was insulting."

"The money in the envelope? I wanted you to have it for your trip."

"It was two-thousand dollars. You know what that meant. That was the exact amount..."

"I didn't have time to count it. I just shoved what was left in the envelope. I didn't mean that. Christ, Bella. You know I didn't mean that."

The hurt in his voice is palpable. "Are you okay, Edward?"

"Yeah." The downtrodden tone makes him sound like he really doesn't know. "Are you going to be down here for Christmas?"

"No, this is our last week. We go home, and then we fly to London."

"Oh… all right. Well… have a great time."

"Where are you?"

"I'm at sea, on a ship."

"Wow, are you really okay?"

"Yeah… I am." A wave of static makes it almost impossible to hear anything. "I think I'm losing this line, Bella. Have a Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Edward…"

It drops out again, and after fifteen minutes, I realize he's not calling back. I hope it's because he couldn't get another connection.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks to a trio of talent - Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley - big smooches!

* * *

 **Chapter** **5**

The call from Edward leaves me with so many unanswered questions. What would have happened if I'd been here for Christmas? Was his ship coming back to shore? Did he have plans to see me, or was I reading too much into a handful of words, the first from him in three months?

When Rosalie arrives back from work, and I tell her Edward called, she sits on the bed and takes my hand.

"This doesn't change anything, right? We're still going next week?" she asks, looking concerned.

Somehow, I summon a smile. "Of course, I'm just glad he's okay."

She smiles back, looking relieved. "Are you pissed with him?"

"I think he's pissed at me. He found out what Dad does for a living." Her eyebrows shoot up as if this explains everything, and she looks at me nervously. "It's not like we were ever going to have a real relationship, Rose."

"Uh huh," she offers, watching me like a mother hen. "I'm glad he's okay too, but as I've said before, there are some men who are good for you, and those who are not. Edward was never right for you."

"Rose, leave it," Emmett commands, appearing in the doorway to the bathroom. "You never took the time to get to know him, so don't comment on Edward."

"I know enough. Anyway, how well do you really know him? It's not like you two spent much time together alone when there was always a crowd of people in that Caravan."

He shakes his head slowly and says, "We weren't always in the Caravan. You know we started the same day in the main bar and shared a corner room in Slink?"

"I didn't know that," I answer, fascinated he's going to tell me something about him and Edward when they were the new guys around here. "We came in to a group of pretty wild barmen. Because of my size, they assumed I was kinda dumb, but I showed them. I was head barman within three months. Edward… he's just a great bartender. He was very organized and self-sufficient too, so I figured he'd be good in the staff barman role. He liked the freedom to do his own thing."

While I'm drinking this in, I'm thinking about what it was like the day Edward took over his bar. He would have had it shipshape in no time.

"Well, he's gone now, and he won't be back," Rosalie states, shutting Emmett down.

"Right," he says and goes back to their room.

"Are things okay between you two?" I ask, feeling the tension between them. "Are you sure you still want to go?" I'm half expecting a negative answer, but Rosalie Hale shows herself to be a very pragmatic girl.

"Oh, honey, I will miss Emmett, but boyfriends don't belong on our kind of vacation to Europe," she answers with a grin. "And Em understands that."

Her understanding boyfriend organizes a big send-off party in the staff bar, and the booze flows. We know he didn't pay for it. When a couple of guys try to hit on me, I escape to the top of the golf course, remembering the times Edward and I went up there to talk on hot summer nights during the three months we were friends, and the one night we were much more. Tonight it feels cold, just like I do inside.

Dealing with the contents of my room is numbing. The books that Tanya passed on to me go into the central library in Slink. The TV will stay, already claimed by the housemaid and her boyfriend who are moving in. The only things I want to take are the two paintings Tanya gave me, and I've removed the canvases from the frames as she instructed. They are ready to come on the plane with me, rolled together carefully and bubble wrapped.

Scrolling through the photos on my phone that will leave here with me, I see Edward in most of them.

I haven't taken any for a while. The tears now welling in my eyes are the reason why.

How will I ever hear from him again when I'm cancelling my American phone in a week? We never exchanged email addresses, and my father's occupation must have scared him off Facebook because he would have contacted me there by now. There's no way he'll call or send mail to my family's address, if he even knows it.

Edward is wrong about one thing - Dad would have killed _me_ for allowing myself to become close to someone who broke the law. Therefore, I can never mention him. He may have said that he'd fallen in love with me, but his lack of contact is telling, and I have to focus on my future.

Looking back on this experience, it was very different from what I expected. For me it has been an unhealthy mix of physical and mental isolation, never really fitting in. Maybe if I hadn't taken the job in the office, things might have been better.

Boarding our flight at the tiny airport on the island is emotional. I can't help imagining how good this would have been if Edward and Emmett were coming with us. Watching Rosalie with Emmett, crying and not wanting to let him go, I start to tear up too, my heart aching over someone I'll probably never see again.

However, by the time we finally reach Seattle, and our parents meet us at the airport, we're buzzing with excitement and plans. We both feel like we've proved we could do it, and we're ready to go. That life down south feels like a means to an end, and now we are going to enjoy the rewards.

"No more working six-day weeks!" Rosalie high-fives me before pulling me in for a hug, just as the airport doors slide open, and the icy wind reminds us we're back home for Christmas.

Our loose plan is to spend New Year's Eve in London, and then head to Switzerland, grabbing whatever work we can get during the ski season. We both have excellent references from the island, and we're brimming with confidence now we're cashed up. My parents add a thousand dollars emergency money to my account, and the two thousand from Edward will sit there untouched in the hope I can give it back to him one day.

Mom cries when they wave us off to board our flight, but I'm not upset, even though I'm not sure when I will be back. Dying to get started, and determined to make the most of this trip, I feel like it's time to be open to meeting new people and have some fun.

Post-Christmas London is everything I imagined. Our hostel is in Pimlico, right near the Thames, close to Sloane Square, the Tate Britain art gallery, and Buckingham Palace. The streets are terraces of those amazing white Regency townhouses that London is known for, and I vow to come back in summer to see all the garden squares I can only imagine with leaves and shade.

The monuments of the city are inspirational. The panorama from the iconic dome of St. Paul's Cathedral is breathtaking, as is the view from the London Eye. The vast parks and palace grounds sit incongruously within the small bustling city we find so easy to navigate on the buses and the Tube. We walk for miles, getting drenched in the freezing rain, eating in quaint little pubs, and drinking pints.

London has a cozy intimate feeling, and there is a smell in the old buildings I can't recognize, an unusual combination of ancient wood and polish. I am certain I have never come across the scent before, but it's everywhere, and I can picture the city hundreds of years ago, smelling just the same.

We meet loads of great people at the hostel. A group of us bundle up and huddle in with the crowds lining the Thames for the fireworks, hearing Big Ben herald in the new year as the sky bursts with explosions of light.

I keep making excuses to avoid leaving, and a few days turn into a week. Eventually, Rosalie whines so much I agree to move on, and we catch the train to Zurich, close to some of the best skiing in the world. It's a perfect little city on a lake, full of sleek modern trams, medieval churches, and cobblestones. There's a surprise on every corner, and the old part of town is a rabbit warren of alleyways filled with bohemian cafes, art houses and bars.

I love everything about it.

It doesn't take Rosalie long to latch on to a useful male. "Bella, this is Felix. He's going up to Davos to teach skiing," she announces with her arm through his. Felix is a big Austrian guy, and he gives her a reason to start lobbying for us to work there. It does look incredible, and we've seen jobs for Davos posted on the bulletin board at the hostel. We apply on the website, and both receive calls to go up for interviews. She gets a job waiting tables, and amazingly, they employ me to work in the bar.

Of course, I lie on the application and say I have experience in everything, but I manage to bluff my way through the interview, basing my demonstration on what I saw sitting opposite a very efficient staff barman. After they observe me working, they offer me the job.

Davos is one giant party every evening, and the clientele are shoulder to shoulder at the bar. Sometimes groups of skiers come down the mountain naked, holding flares. We have many late nights drinking, and mornings when I regret the excesses of the evening before, but in the ice and snow of Davos, I begin to thaw out. It's easy to enjoy the attention when there are handsome men everywhere with one thing on their mind. I'm just not as rampantly sexual as many of the girls here.

We learn to ski on our days off, thanks to Felix, and we meet many characters there, none more entertaining than Jake Black, an American with a death wish. He goes for the runs that are longer, faster, and the jumps that project him higher into the air so he can complete his triple spin somersault.

Jake comes into my bar most nights, flirting with me for weeks before I recognize a pattern. I am attracted to guys with a dangerous edge. At least he isn't a criminal, and it is flattering that he finds me more appealing than the snow bunnies who follow the competitions.

He thinks he has talent, and in February, he gets his chance to prove it at the Audi Snowboard Series. Doing well, he even gets an interview after he nails one of his more complex jumps. It's a big celebration for our group of nomad workers, and that night I end up in his bed. He is attractive, a fun guy in the prime of his life, and we're drunk, horny, and free.

Jake and I laugh all the time. We have lots of great dates and arguments that go on for hours. I cheer loudly when he enters an event and lands a perfect jump. He helps me with my skiing and fitness to the point where we can go up the mountain and ski for the whole run without stopping, and then we go up again.

Having never been athletic, it's a big thrill for me, and Jake is very pleased to have a female companion who can keep up. He makes me push myself physically, and at the end of the run, he rewards me with a passionate kiss for my efforts.

I always make it clear to Jake that we are leaving soon. We discuss my plans on many occasions, and he doesn't have a lot of money, while we are about to start spending our savings.

When he begins dropping hints about coming with us, Rosalie becomes agitated, gushing about amazing hotels, expensive train passes, overnight ferry trips, and flights to Greek islands. When it fails to have the desired effect, she very sweetly tells him he's not invited.

"You treat Jake like shit! What is wrong with you?" I ask her, sick of the way she speaks to him.

"Are you in love with him now?"

"I… I don't know..." I'm not really sure why I don't have an answer.

"Well, you think about this trip of ours in two ways, Bella. Either we can enjoy spending our money and have an experience that will last us a lifetime, or we can stick to Jake's budget. Then we'll be staying in the cheapest hostels, stealing food from breakfast to last us all day, having to make choices based on what _he_ can afford. Which one do you prefer?"

When she puts it that way, I can see she is right. I spent six months going without to save this money, and I do want an incredible experience. If Jake had more cash, I would be fighting for him, but as it is, I can see I'll probably end up financing him and having to cut the trip short.

"He's not getting any of my money." I just glare at her, and she realizes she's said enough. She softens, touching my arm, and says quietly, "It isn't worth ruining everything for someone you've only known for a short time. I know you're fond of him, but it's time to cut him loose, Bells."

"Okay," I snap at her, making sure she understands the discussion is over. Jake will just have to understand.

Studying our big map, I'm looking at a spot so close but another world away. Despite the fact that I am having the time of my life, doing things I never even dreamed of, Edward still lingers in my thoughts. Ninety-seven miles away is Locarno, the northern tip of Lake Maggiore, and every time I see it, I imagine arriving at Isola Bella on the ferry and finding him there waiting, asking if we have time to stay with his family.

Five months without seeing him, and I wouldn't hesitate to say yes. Rosalie would lecture me for a week over that one.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Wonderful people give up their precious time to help writers in this fandom, and I have three of the best - Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley - thank you again!**_

 _ **To everyone who is reading, following and reviewing, thank you so much. I have loved hearing your thoughts!**_

* * *

 **Chapter** **6**

We've been following a blog for a while where travelers contribute their reviews and experiences for others. Everyone states the same thing, that you find somewhere to work or go home during July and August. Trying to see Europe during those two months is more expensive, booked-out, and full of long frustrating lines to get into anything. We decide to plan around that advice, so it gives us four months to see the countries on our list and decide if we want to stay and work the peak season to continue.

I start to contribute to the blog under the name "Charlie's Angel," and my advice on coming to Zurich for a job at the ski resorts gets a surprising amount of responses. I receive comments on my pieces on winter life working in Davos where people ask specific questions I can actually answer. It is very interesting to read reviews on the places we want to visit, and we are able to get information firsthand just by asking our own questions.

"What do you think about a tour?" Rosalie asks, hunched over the laptop.

"Bus tour?"

"Yes. Remember those places we vetoed because of the language barrier?"

"Warsaw, Budapest and Prague?"

"They take you there, as well as Frankfurt, Berlin, Vienna and Munich."

"Let me see!" I lean over her shoulder and read the list of countries we studied in modern history. We had decided that Berlin was a long way to go and that neighboring Poland, the Czech Republic and Hungary would be a hard slog on our own. I start reading the blurb aloud. "Oh, my God, Auschwitz! We have to do this! Can we afford it?"

"Two grand for fifteen days."

"Then let's do it, Rose. I want to do it."

"The first tour of the season leaves March sixteenth. If that's okay, I'll book it."

I put my arms around her shoulders and nod my head. It feels like everything is falling into place. We were employed so quickly that we haven't eaten into our money, and we've even managed to save more in one of the most expensive countries in the world. We are awesome.

Now we have ten days until the tour starts, and we still haven't been over to St. Moritz. We swap shifts so Jake and Felix can come with us. The village is so different, high up in the mountains that feel close enough to touch.

We ski for hours before stopping for lunch, and then Jake says he wants to try their jumps. He flies down too fast and launches too late, catching the edge of his board on the lip as he tumbles up in the air, landing badly, and screaming out in pain.

An ultrasound reveals that, apart from the bruising and swelling, he has snapped a ligament in his knee. He can walk, but not ski, and his parents want him to come home immediately to have his surgery done in the U.S. With the sludge on the ground in the village, he's worried he'll do further damage, so he decides to go home.

I help him get his stuff to Zurich, and he flies out. Coming back on the train, I'm still in shock, unable to believe what happened. It reminds me of the way Edward left so suddenly, but this time I know Jake is better off back with his family. I also don't feel an emotional connection to Jake. It seems my heart hasn't healed enough to let anyone else in yet.

A blanket of gloom overshadows our last days at Davos, and Rosalie says she feels bad about how things turned out with Jake, but she has no problem saying goodbye to Felix. Jake calls from the States, thanking me for helping him get home and wishing us a safe trip, saying he will be back next season, repaired and ready to jump.

I write a piece on what can happen on the turn of a dime, where a chance miscalculation can end your trip in a blink. It's mostly about the excellent attention Jake received from the medics at the St. Moritz jumps.

We aren't ready to let go of Switzerland yet, so we catch the Glacier Express through the mountains from St. Moritz to Zermatt and drink hot chocolate at the highest restaurant in the Alps. I write a blog on the super sleek interior of the train with its leather designer seats and the view where it looks like someone poured thick marshmallow over the world. The cross-country skiers are like tiny black ants in comparison to the mountains behind them.

I can't resist buying the toy mountain goat they are selling on the train. Playing with him, pointing things out to him through the window, gives me an idea to write my blog from his perspective. I name him "Klaus," Rosalie is "Blush," and I'm "Angel."

Klaus is now my profile shot, and the blog becomes a sort of travel diary. I post from Lucerne about the old world beauty of the covered timber bridge across the river, with its roof creaking and groaning under the weight of the snow it holds. I record the amazing sight of the city at twilight with the sky still blue and the nighttime lights reflected in the lake. Klaus appears in the bottom corner of a wonderful photo Rosalie takes to add to the post.

Before I forget it, I write about the absolute quiet when the weather calms on a freezing night, how the deep snow absorbs sound and swallows it.

Every time I post, within a day or so, someone named James Hilton leaves a comment, saying he is very much enjoying our travels. He doesn't offer any suggestions back, so I don't respond. Rosalie thinks he is creepy, but I argue that writing as "Charlie's Angel" protects my anonymity. She still warns me not to give out any details about our next destination, not trusting anyone.

For the two weeks of the tour, I upload every day, filling the blog with anecdotes and descriptions of people we meet, what we eat and drink, things that take my interest or surprise me. Every day there is another friendly comment from James Hilton, and it _is_ starting to feel a little strange.

The final night is the Holiday Inn in Frankfurt. Rosalie is packing her things for our flight the next day when I decide to write my final blog for the tour. There is a message from James with today's date saying, " _I'm in Frankfurt. Can we meet?"_

"Oh, my God. He knows where we are," I whisper, feeling instantly chilled, realizing I've let someone track me through my blogs. I sit up straight and see Rosalie, whose eyes are double their normal size as she reads over my shoulder.

Her voice has an edge of terror to it. "Close it down, Bella. Did you encourage him?" I am trembling so much that I slam the lid shut, effectively closing its window to the world. "Tell me you haven't written anything about where we are going." I shake my head, too terrified to form words. "Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure? We need to call Charlie."

Dad is worried and interrogates us for a while, asking us what we know of the man and if there is any way he could know where we are headed next. I check through everything I've posted, but I never mentioned anything about Greece.

Mom wants us to come home, but that just makes me angry, knowing we are going to miss the Greek Islands, Italy, France, and who knows where this trip was supposed to lead us. We've already paid for our flights, some of our accommodations, and ferry passes. No, this loser is not going to stop me now.

I promise not to connect to the internet again, and Dad says he will find out what he can.

Ordering room service, we hide in our room that night, guessing that he must have deduced which tour we were on from my blogs. The next morning we're calm enough to go to the group breakfast and say goodbye, but we are both paranoid. Everyone looks like a "James" to me. If he has identified the tour, he could easily find the listing of hotels where we stay. We abandon public transport and catch a cab to the airport, only settling down when we are on the plane to Athens.

After two days of sightseeing, we board our early flight to the island of Santorini. Arriving at our whitewashed hotel, no one is awake yet, and the place is shrouded in white fog. I dump my bag, severely disappointed, when a gust of wind blows the fog away, giving us a glimpse of the vista in front of us: pink bougainvillea, blue sky, and ocean. We both jump up and down, holding on to each other and squealing, waking the manager, who leads us down the steps to a roomy cave-like apartment carved into the side of the cliff.

Our massive deck is home to three cats who come to visit whenever we are outside enjoying the amazing view, reading, and relaxing in the seventy-degree weather. I write about this place every day, but never connect to the internet, too scared James will come after us.

Most nights, we have a crowd of people at our place to enjoy the sunset, looking out over the caldera, the volcano bubbling up and reforming land in the middle of the bay. There's a lot of discussion about the eruptions that eventually blew the island apart and left the steep rim of cliffs we are perched on. Some even go along with the theories that this is the location of Atlantis.

We catch the local bus to the excavations at Akrotiri where they tell us it will take a hundred years to uncover the city, abandoned when volcanic ash rained down. It makes us look forward to seeing Pompeii more than ever.

Rosalie is attracted to one of the English men in our group, but surprisingly she avoids his advances and doesn't sleep with him. When I ask, she says she has been thinking about Emmett lately, and she wants to email him and tell him she misses him. I need to email my parents and Jake anyway, so we decide to take the laptop down to the pub with the free Wi-Fi.

I want to find out if James has tried to contact me again and catch up on my blog, interested to see any responses from the tour posts. There are so many comments, and I giggle when a few ask things like, "Where is Klaus today?" He is becoming a bit of a celebrity. Rosalie hovers, ready to smack me if my itchy fingers try to type something back.

The smile falls from my face when I see two messages from James. " _I'm very sorry if I scared you off."_ Then another, a day later, " _I'm not a stalker. I've enjoyed your writing style, and I'd like to use some of your blogs in my online travel magazine. I can only offer a small remuneration but it may grow, depending on the amount of interest your stories generate."_

He signs off with the contact details for the magazine and the website. When we check it out, it seems to be legit, and we look at it together before I pick up my phone to call Dad. While he knows we are still scared, he understands that this could be a foot in the door to a future writing career – a contact. He and Mom have been following the blog and have enjoyed it very much.

Dad calls the following day, saying that James Hilton checks out, that he is who he says he is. Dad even called him, and he tells me that James understood because of the strange circumstances. He said he has a child of his own and fully comprehends a father's need to protect his daughter so far from home.

I am so excited, ready to send a message back to James, but Rosalie insists I wait twenty-four hours to see if he contacts me first, and he does. He jokingly relates his panic when a chief of police called from the United States, enquiring about his internet activity. Dad can be very intimidating when he wants.

We travel on the ferries, island-hopping our way back to Athens, as a dialogue starts between James and me. He's now linking my blog to the online magazine's thread.

When I finally post about Santorini and the fun we had there, the response is incredible. A lot of the comments say things like, " _Welcome back, Klaus!"_ or " _Thank God, we thought Angel and Blush had taken you home!"_ It's so addictive having these strangers ask questions and leave their well wishes as they follow our trip.

We now delay all posts for a few days, just in case, and I write about the parties on the island of Ios where we dance all night. I check in with Dad every few days, and today I hear Mom in the background.

" _Don't forget to tell her about the young man!"_ she calls out to him.

" _Oh, yes, that's right. Someone named Edward Masen called the house to get your number. You know how I feel about this. If he was a friend of yours, he would already…."_

"Dad, when did he call?" I interrupt him in utter frustration. "He _is_ a friend."

" _Well, it was during the business with James, so about two weeks ago."_

God, it feels like my heart is going to explode it's beating so fast.

" _He did leave a contact number if you want it, Bella."_


	7. Chapter 7

_**To Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley - thank you so much for being a part of this story, for fitting me in to your busy lives. Special thanks to Pa for a little advice on being specific and not generalizing. Mwah ladies!**_

 _ **Very interesting reviews this week. I loved every one of them!**_

 _ **Klaus says Grüezi!**_

* * *

 **Chapter** **7**

I almost scream at Dad, but I try to calmly take down the number and thank him before saying goodbye. Trembling, I tap it out on my phone, only to connect with a gruff-sounding voice. When I ask for Edward, the man yells, _"Is Ed Masen around?"_ and I wait.

Rosalie is angry. "He's using emotional torture on you keeping this going."

"Shut up," I hiss at her, trying to hear what they're saying.

" _In the tank,"_ someone calls out in answer.

" _He can't talk to you for a while. Do you want him to call back later?"_

"Yes, please," I respond, feeling relieved when I give him the number, and he repeats it back to me. I have no idea what "the tank" means, but I don't care. It's Edward.

Rosalie looks at me in amazement. To her, Edward would always be the guy to steer clear of. She would never understand my relationship with Edward or that he had another side. To me, he was vibrant green eyes, tawny messy hair, and a killer body. I would always remember him as a dangerously beautiful twenty-two-year-old, a sensual and affectionate lover who could put a gun to a man's head and pull the trigger. Why I couldn't forget him was no mystery. I was still in love with him.

I saw his face when he dreamed of another life in which he had choices, where his intellect and charisma weren't thrown away on crime to repay a debt he would never discuss.

Sometimes I nostalgically kid myself that it was for something worthwhile, but in reality, it was probably about drugs. In the end, there were things he decided not to share for my own protection, and I understood why.

When Edward left and chose not to let me know what had happened to him, Rosalie was there for me. She made no secret of the fact that she despised him for what he did, so there was no point in telling her then, or even now, how he cared for me, or that he would do anything to protect me.

That was a ballsy move, making contact with my father, and when he calls back a couple of hours later, I walk away to talk in private.

"Mr. Masen?"

He chuckles and answers, _"That's my real name."_ His voice sounds so good that I pause, imagining him on the other end of the line. _"I thought you'd given up on me, Bella. Don't… give up on me."_

"I only got the message today, and it's been a long time, Edward."

" _It's taken me this long."_

"To do what?"

" _Go straight. Get a real job. I'm coming to the U.K. soon."_

I'm almost jumping out of my skin. "What's the job?"

" _On a ship… A month on, a month off."_ I feel my body sag. Of course, with Edward it wouldn't be a nine to five job in London. He's probably on one of those massive ocean liners. _"I wanna see you, Bella."_

"I… I won't be back in London for a while."

" _Okay."_

I can't tell if I'm hearing frustration or just acceptance, but I give him the details of the blog so he can follow us, and tell him I will call him.

" _Bella, you can't call me."_

"Why not?"

" _Because you can't. I'll call you, and we can text when I get a cell."_ There's a grumbling voice in the background, and Edward lets out a sigh. _"Sorry, my time's up. Someone else is waiting to use the phone. I'll call you soon, Bella. Have a great time."_

"Thanks, Edward," I reply, trying to accept that I'm going to have to wait a while longer. The timing couldn't be worse.

* * *

We go to the island of Donoussa for something different: to swim, rest, and experience slow village life, away from the tourists. Everyone owns a fishing boat here, and the ocean is that see-through kind that bends its color into many shades of blue. Greek flags flap in the breeze, and locals dance after dinner, holding hands and linking arms. I feel the romance of the place, probably because I have Edward in my head the whole time we are here.

I keep reliving images of our last night together: his stubble grazing my breasts as he kissed down my arms; his long fingers holding my hips and his hair softly tickling while that same stubble did incredible things between my open legs.

Edward and I shared one total experience, much more than just sex and orgasms. He showed me his love, giving and accepting without rushing. I can still remember his skin and his muscles, strong shoulders and legs, a tongue I know I will never forget, and consuming kisses I can still taste. If I had known that night would be our only time, I never would have let myself fall asleep.

During the stay on Donoussa, I trace over those thoughts, trying to make them indelible. I keep imagining Edward here, holding my hand again, swimming with me, loving me. It takes me several days to shake off the feeling when I can't really share it with anyone.

James encourages me to keep posting, linking my pieces to a feature he's doing on travel to the Greek islands. He uses one of Rosalie's photos of the cats on our deck with the breathtaking view. People are still responding with questions or jealous comments, and some of them are hilarious. The fact that they are still reading is what matters to James. It's all filtering back to his website and his advertisers. He deposits 400 pounds into my account, and suddenly, I'm being paid to write!

The blog on Donoussa attracts hundreds of comments by the time we leave Greece. Either it's the combination of having the two sites linked, or that people want to read about romance.

In Italy I continue, trying to find something unusual to write about. It's difficult when people have already saturated the Internet with opinions in every known language about everything that ever existed there.

The country definitely does not disappoint. The people are unlike any other nationality we've encountered so far, and within a week, I'm crazy about everything Italian.

It's so easy to fall in love with a place where men exist like Paolo, who throws my bag over his shoulder in the pouring rain, carrying it up steep steps for me… swoon…

The young adults are so incredibly beautiful; we feel plain in comparison.

A shopkeeper ignores us as we're ready to pay when a relative comes in to visit, embracing profusely and loudly catching up on a lifetime of gossip.

The advertised rate at the hotel is not always what they charge us, and often we come out in front.

They understand great food. From a handful of ingredients, they create culinary masterpieces full of color and taste and texture that leave us grinning while we eat.

We have two travelling companions with us now: Sam, whom Rosalie picked up in Corfu, and his friend, Alec. It's nice to have their company and male protection, but Alec is gone half the time, looking for sex, since he knows I'm not interested.

I name them "Bellboy" and "Porter." As Klaus' new defenders, they are important, and people keep asking about them, so I continue. The four of us sharing works out great because we can afford bigger rooms or suites, and when we find something at the right price, we use it as a base, occasionally for a week at a time.

Edward calls me, inquisitive about the two men who travel with us, telling me he's now in London. He says he's loving the blog.

"Why are you still encouraging him?" Rosalie asks when we end the call.

"Does Emmett know you're sleeping with Sam?"

Rosalie Hale likes to purse her lips and storm off dramatically on occasion. Yeah, I feel bad going for the jugular, but she brings it out in me whenever she says something negative about Edward.

It's taking so long to cover Pompeii, the Isle of Capri, and the Amalfi coast that we abandon the idea of going down to Sicily and decide to head up to Rome instead. The photos we post with the blogs are out of this world.

We add another person to our group during this time. Randall is an American boy we meet on the train. Still a teenager, he is self-sufficient and happy to do his own thing, coming and going as we do. One day, we have to move his gear when a book falls on the floor.

"Bella, check this out!" Rosalie calls to me as she flips through the pages of a well-worn copy of _Frommer's Gay and Lesbian Europe_. "Look at the phone numbers and addresses. What is this?"

Every entry is accompanied by the word, "blow," "top," or "bottom" with what looks like money amounts.

"Oh, my God, is he a... prostitute?" I stumble, trying to get the words out.

"Yes." She looks at me, frowning. "He must be… selling his body to continue travelling."

"He's just sixteen, Rose." It's heartwrenching. We never let on that we saw the book, but after he leaves us in Naples, I'm worried sick, wondering if he'll ever make it home.

Rome is devastating, infinitely better than I imagined, and I had very high expectations arriving there. I fall under its spell, and my blogs ooze with my enthusiasm for everything Roman. They have to drag me away from setting down roots there permanently because, as usual, Rosalie presses me to move on to Florence and then further north. Sam and Alec are going home anyway, flying out from Venice when we catch the train to Milan.

James starts to badger me, saying he's ready to tap into my growing list of followers and turn hits into dollars, promoting my page as _the_ place to come and share travel stories with Klaus.

When he starts talking about us making videos to upload, I tell him I'm not comfortable losing my anonymity, and Rosalie barks out a loud laugh, saying he is out of his mind. He tells me he will come back with a more structured idea soon.

I call Edward to tell him about James, and it's obvious he declines the call, sending back a text that reads, " _Texts only."_

"Why?"

" _Texts only."_

"Why are you being weird?"

" _Let's talk. What do you want to talk about?"_

I've lost the urge to vent now. "IDK. We're going through Milan soon. Do you want to join me at Lake Maggiore?"

" _YES! Can you wait a couple of weeks?"_

"No :( Will you come back here with me one day?"

" _I'd LOVE to :)"_

Seeing that word in front of me, I have to shake away the emotion before it comes. He's getting under my skin, and I'm letting it happen again.

* * *

Venice is a maze built on water. We set out for one destination and find ourselves somewhere else, our sense of direction conquered by its intrinsic beauty and grand spectacle. After getting hopelessly lost several times, we decide to explore outside the city and take ferries to tiny islands where artisans blow glass and create exquisite traditional embroidery. We soak up the sun at the Lido Beach and float in an Adriatic Sea that's smooth as glass.

Sad to leave, we bypass Milan, going through to Paris, and after three days of walking, we realize we've made a big mistake underestimating its vast size and the many things we want to see. Too tired to go to the Moulin Rouge one night, we can't even fit in our trip to the Palace of Versailles, so we decide to stay and slow down.

Now we wander through much smaller sections of the city, stopping wherever we please, absorbing Paris' chic urban elegance. We sit in parks and cafes, talking about coming back one day when we're in love. We don't mention who we would bring because it's become a touchy subject.

I wonder if something is happening with Emmett since she's been spending more time on her phone lately, walking away to speak in private. Texts arrive throughout the night.

It's becoming obvious that neither of us is talking about what comes after Paris. Rosalie continues with her phone calls while James sends me texts with ideas on how he's going to make the website blow up. He sounds needy, like this is his big opportunity, and I start to question the merits of such a venture for me. It has nothing to do with journalism anymore.

Rosalie glares at me as I relate the latest development. "Is there anything connecting you personally to the website?"

I think about it. There is nothing but a generic email where I get my notifications.

"Nope."

"Then tell _him_ to blog Klaus' questions if he thinks it's such a good idea. You didn't go to college to waste your talent on this. Say you'll blog again as Angel when you're next travelling."

He is my only connection to the London publishing world. "I'll keep going with it until I get a job."

"Pfft. You won't have any trouble. Your amazing blogs are the reason for its success. Once you stop them, it will die, trust me."

"Your photos helped."

"No, girlfriend, it has always been about the words. The piece you did on the creaking bridge in Switzerland still sends shivers down my spine. I heard the exact sound in the text. That's a gift."

"Oh yeah, Lucerne." It seems like such a long time ago we were there. We both sit silently reminiscing before she finally speaks.

"Bella, I think I'm done. Are you finished with the adventure yet?"

I suspected this was coming. "Is it Emmett?"

Her whole face lights up with the biggest of smiles. "He's coming to London. We're going to drive around the U.K. together."

"Oh, Rosalie, that's great." We hug, and I cling to her happiness. They really _did_ fall for each other.

"He's been so patient, waiting like that. He's a keeper, Bella."

"I know that, Rose. I always hoped he would come with us."

"Oh no, I've had the best time, even better than I thought. It's hard to pick a favorite place."

"Oh, that's easy... Roma or… maybe London. I can't wait to get back there."

"Well, tell James to back off. I still think he's creepy. Promise me you won't put your name to his harebrained scheme."

I cringe inside, thinking she would confront him, when I might need him to recommend me for something one day. "I think I'll be okay. I'm sure Dad did a job on him."

She laughs and nods, happier than I've seen her lately, finally relieved of her secret.

Now we need something special to end our vacation. Our concierge recommends dinner and the evening of a thousand candles at the Chateau de Vaux le Vicomte, about an hour outside Paris.

Rosalie is reluctant to pay over two hundred Euros for the tour, including minibus pickup, and the concierge waves his hand, painstakingly writing down the instructions to get us there for a fraction of the price.

Without his directions, we would not have worked it out without a great deal of help. At the destination of Melun, we have to ignore the bus signs and go to the other end of a tunnel to find a tiny sign to the chateau bus. Following his instructions to the letter, we manage it easily.

After a tour of the chateau, we have lobster and beef on the terrace while classical music plays. At dusk, they light the thousand candles and the whole place takes on a magical feel, beckoning us to wander the grounds. When the first fireworks burst in the sky, I smile at Rosalie and see tears in her eyes.

"I wish Em was here tonight."

I hug her, saying, "You'll just have to bring him back." She nods, smiling and wiping her tears away.

It's an incredible end to our dream vacation but now I want to see Edward. He hasn't contacted me in a while, but that night I call him, my excitement flattened when it goes to voicemail, and I realize he's probably still working on his ship. I just say we're coming to London earlier than planned and that it will be great to catch up.

We catch the Eurostar and I write about our final week as we speed through the green of north-eastern France. I can feel a chapter closing, but I'm full of anticipation for the next one, whatever it may bring.

Coming back to the hostel in Pimlico is depressing when Rosalie's leaving me tonight. Emmett's flight was due in today around lunchtime, and Rosalie is sitting forward in the cab, searching for any sign of him.

"He's not here yet. Where is he?" she asks dejectedly, calling him and getting no answer.

We stand on the street for a while and then I go inside to see if he's waiting in there. When I can't find him, I walk back out and ask loudly, "He definitely said he would come to the hostel?"

"Yes, Bella, he said he would meet me here," she snaps at me as a black cab pulls up out front. We both glance at the passenger, seeing it's obviously not Emmett.

I am aware of the anguished sound she makes, but I'm stuck where I am, glued to the spot, transfixed by the man in the cab. My heart pounds as he slides his long legs out and stands, facing me, running a hand through his hair.

It's him.

But it's only when I see his smile that I really believe a London cab just delivered Edward Cullen Masen to me.


	8. Chapter 8

_**The love and trust I have for three women holds no bounds. To Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley - thank you for everything.**_

 ** _Reviews were amazing this week! I appreciate the feedback so much!_**

 _ **Klaus is telling me to get on with it because he's dying to move out of his suitcase!**_

* * *

 **Chapter** **8**

Rose is calling Emmett again, leaving a message, so she hasn't noticed Edward. We stand there, staring at each other with matching smiles.

A heartbeat, or several, misfire and choke in my chest. It's been so long, but it's like yesterday, as if a stitch gathered up a piece of time. Then, and then now.

Now that I see him, I realize how much I've really missed him. He was my best friend, better than Rosalie Hale or anyone before her. I craved that friendship, one that overcame huge odds to exist and thrive in an isolation where differences fester and matter. The two of us grew closer every day back then.

I could easily run to him, jump into his arms, and tell him I still love him the way I did when he left the island, but that would be letting my guard down. Instead, I raise my hand just like he did as he waved me goodbye the last time I saw him.

He takes a step and then falters. I see him hit a barrier of emotion, probably not liking it either. Still our eyes connect as if there's nothing else. It's a moment, one that could blow us apart at any second if I let the hurt come through.

"Where is he?" Rose calls out, leaning into the traffic of the busy street.

She's in front of me, but she's not between me and Edward. Nothing is, and I know that if he really has gone straight, then I want him as mine, and I want another one of those island nights.

 _God, he looks good. Slim. Fit. The same._

Taking a step toward him, he takes one too, like we choreographed it. I wish I could hear his thoughts, but it's all there in the way his eyes never leave mine. Another step each, another movement forward, and I notice he's pale. He's pale like he's sick, drained of the sun, white almost, making me gasp.

"You're like a ghost. Are you ill?" I ask, concerned there is something inside chewing at his health.

"Because I'm pale when you're all… golden vacation?" He looks me over with the smirk I never forgot.

"Yes… because you're pale. Why are you? It's already summer."

His hand reaches out toward me, but he hesitates. "I'll tell you later."

"Tell me now, Edward. I'm worried."

He sighs, and I hear a sound rumble in his chest as he gives in. "I don't see daylight in my job. No vitamin D."

I frown, confused by his ambiguity. "Some job."

"A thousand pounds a day."

"A day?" That's a shocking amount of money.

"A day." He confirms it with the haughty look of a man who's made it, and I smile back because he's telling me he's made it without breaking the law… and maybe he's done that for me.

"Damn him!" Rose is pulling at her hair, starting to panic. She needs some attention.

"Have you got a number for his parents? He could have missed the flight." I figure it's worth a try rather than standing here all night.

"No, Emmett's here. I've seen him, and he was definitely coming."

Rose snaps her head up at Edward's voice, alarmed and surprised to see him as she rubs her forehead. "I don't know where we're staying tonight. I've only got his cell."

"Let's go inside and have a drink. He'll find us," Edward offers, believably.

We walk through the door and head in the direction of the bar. Rose doesn't want a drink, plonking down on a couch and swiping her phone. She hasn't said a word directly to Edward, not even hello.

His arm surrounds my space with his hand on the bar, as if it's more comfortable that way. Then I feel his chin graze my shoulder and hear a tiny intake of breath. Leaning in to him now would give me away.

"What would you like?"

 _A lot of things._

Glancing at their fridge, I point to the bottles of beer. "Fuller's please."

"Two." Edward has to move his hand to get his wallet. He thinks I don't notice him brush my hip on the way to his cash, but I notice the tingle all right. "Cheers," he says, with a grin, and taps his bottle against mine.

Rose looks like she's about to break into a million pieces, and a few people are asking if she's okay. She repeats the same story for anyone who will listen.

I sit down beside her and bump her shoulder with mine. "He's just held up, Rose. He'll be here."

"Yeah, I only saw him a few hours ago, and he was excited to see you. Don't worry," Edward adds, quite compassionately.

I smile at him and say, "Exactly. He's just held up in traffic or still working out the Tube. He won't be long."

Rose leans into me and sighs, as if she finally accepts that she might be worrying about nothing.

"You staying here tonight?" Edward asks, and when I nod, he says, "I'm at a pub."

"Oh, what's it like?" I ask, not exactly interested in the answer.

"Primitive… I'm not ready for you to come there yet."

His eyes hold mine, dazzling me, and it feels like his words hide some other meaning. Suddenly I'm flustered, and my cheeks flame as my eyes land on his groin right in front of me. When I glance up, I meet his cocky smile as he takes a long pull of his beer.

 _Yeah, he remembers._

I have to hide my physical response to him. We need some of that friendly camaraderie I saw returning in his texts and phone calls. Right now, we're back to when we first met, his innuendo and my blush, and I won't allow him to take the upper hand with me. If he wants this, I should make him work for it.

 _I really hope he wants to work for it._

"I'm going to start looking for somewhere permanent to live in the morning," I declare, casually.

"Yeah, well, you definitely can't stay with me," he states with some authority, finishing his beer.

"I didn't say I wanted to stay with…"

The front door opens and Emmett bursts in. "Rose!" He looks like he's never been so relieved in his life.

"Em!" She flies into his arms, causing a dozen people to cheer and hold their drinks up to them. While covering his face with kisses, she asks, "What happened?"

"Hi, Bella," he calls to me with a wave and then rolls his eyes at Edward. "I put my head down for an hour to get rid of this awful jet lag, and I just woke up. I'm sorry."

When I expect her to tear into him for leaving her hanging like that, she clings to him, saying over and over how much she missed him and how glad she is he's here now. "Where are we staying?"

"Chelsea. It's ten minutes in a cab or five if you pay 'em to speed."

"Then let's go!"

My mouth is opening and closing like a fish, unable to believe that after all this time, she's going to dump me just like that. We haven't eaten yet, but she's getting her bag to leave.

"We'll call you, okay?" she asks, holding my shoulders. "Good luck with the job hunting, and stay away from James."

After a hug from both of them, they really do leave without her once acknowledging Edward. He asks, "James? Who is James?"

"Nobody, believe me," I answer, watching them go. As soon as they're outside, her arms wrap around Emmett's neck for a passionate kiss, making me turn away, and I run into Edward's chest.

"Let's get something to eat, Bella. I'm starving."

I check in and dump my bag in my room so Edward and I can go out to eat. It's only the second time we've ever been out in the real world together.

Over dinner, I show him the photos on my phone, and I don't vet them, allowing him to take it from me, scrolling and asking questions. I have nothing to hide from him and I do want him to see we've had fun.

As he reaches the beginning, showing London in winter, his expression changes when he comes across my favorite photos I kept on the phone. There are some shots from the party we had when Tanya left the island, Rosalie and Emmett moving in. The rest he's seen before: people in the Caravan, selfies of us at the beach and some at the staff bar.

He doesn't comment on any of them. With a sigh, he takes his phone and opens his own gallery, handing it to me. I've never seen these images before: me at the reception desk, reading on the beach, brushing my hair in the doorway of my room. They're all observations of my everyday life. In one of them, I must have been a million miles away, because it's a close up where I'm looking at the ocean with the last of the evening sun on my face.

I don't know how to respond when I'm so full of emotion, so I hand back the phone and we're left in awkward silence. He traces over a ring I bought in Santorini, and then looks over my face. "It's so good to see you again."

"You knew I'd be here tonight."

"Yeah, I've been in contact with Emmett for a while now. Your father put up such a barrier, and when you didn't call back… I had to track Emmett down to find out if you had someone new."

"I didn't."

"No, neither did I." he adds with a smile.

The smile fades, leaving the uncomfortable quiet again. It makes me feel brave enough to face the essential questions I've been wanting to ask.

"I think it's time to tell me what happened. I thought you were dead."

With a surprised look, he says, "I told you I had to disappear, that I had to finish it. Placing you in danger like that… " He looks at the ceiling, shaking his head. "Did you think I was joking?"

If he thinks I remember much of that stressful time before he left, then he's mistaken.

"How did I know what that meant?"

"I'm sorry. I know it was chaotic. I just knew I had to put distance between us, and there were things I had to do quickly."

"Like what?"

"Like end all ties with Edward Cullen."

When he doesn't elaborate, I can see I'm only going to get the summary version tonight, so I target what I really want to know.

"Do you still owe the money?"

Shaking his head, he answers curtly. "It's gone... My dad..."

The look he gives me warns me not to ask any more on that subject. It just throws up more questions.

 _Was his father involved, or did Edward have to confess why he needed the money so his father would bail him out? Did his family think he was an angel? Is that why he left the country? We were definitely coming back to this._

"Okay, so where have you been since then?"

"Training mostly. I'm a certified commercial diver now."

I hear the answer, but my eyes are blinking like he's speaking another language.

"You work under water?" He nods as if it's nothing. "Have you swapped one dangerous profession for another? I don't even know what a commercial diver does."

"Nah, don't worry about that. It's perfectly safe. Everything is triple-checked before we go in the water. It's just maintenance work really."

 _Oh boy, this needs more explanation. For a thousand pounds a day, he's making it sound too easy._

"Why are you in the dark all the time then?"

He puts his fingers to my lips and says, "Shhh. There's nothing to worry about. It's physically demanding, so when we're not in the water, we're sleeping a lot."

"You say, 'we.' How many divers are on the ship?"

"A dozen, two crews of six."

 _I'm so glad he doesn't know I thought he was working on a cruise ship. He'd be laughing in my face._

Edward yawns, apologizing and explaining he only got into London this morning. I tell him I didn't want a late night anyway. When he takes me back, he says he'll return in the morning, kissing my cheek, and I go upstairs to my room with a smile on my face. It's only when I'm in my bed that another dozen questions play on my mind.

The girl sharing my room stumbles in at dawn and proceeds to snore. It's an hour later for me since I'm still on Europe time, so I get up to check out the bulletin board and the computer while it's quiet.

There are some share accommodation options on the board, but the prices are astronomical. The U.K. spare rooms website isn't much better, and it seems like I will have to go way out in the suburbs to afford anything. Even then, the rooms are tiny, only the width of a bed and bedside table, with many of them listing no living room in the apartment. Strange.

One ad does interest me. It's a share at Waterloo for ninety pounds a week including everything, only available until September. This room is a good size with a double bed, sofa, and a desk where I can write, so I take down the details to call as soon as they are awake. When I do call, my potential roommates, a couple named Angela and Ben, can't see me until after 4:00 pm.

Edward and I spend the morning wandering the streets of Pimlico in glorious London sunshine, followed by a long, lazy picnic lunch. It's even better than I imagined here, and I daydream of living in one of these four story townhouses, spending Sundays with our three children at one of these gorgeous little parks. We reminisce about other lazy afternoons we spent together on the island, the parties and good times.

Walking down to the river and crossing over the Vauxhall Bridge, we stop halfway. In front of us is the headquarters of MI6, the Secret Intelligence Service, and we fool around, talking in posh English accents about our latest missions. Then we stroll along the edge of the river, enjoying the wonderful view from the southern side of the Thames, where I'm able to point out some of the buildings I recognize.

We cut across to Waterloo and find our destination not far from the station. The street is short and nothing special. One end is a tunnel under the railway line, and the other joins the main road or "high street" as they call it, full of pubs and restaurants. It's halfway between Waterloo and Southwark Stations.

The apartment is below ground level, but on entering, I find it to be full of light and lacking the expected damp smell. Maybe in winter things might be different, but I have to be out by September. After seeing my room, I say that I could take it immediately, but they want to sort a few things out first.

It sounds serious, but Angela has a pot of tea ready, with nice cups and saucers that match the milk and sugar containers, quite fancy for this grilling I fear I'm about to get.

"Will Edward be living here too?" Ben asks firmly but politely.

"No, I've got my own place," Edward explains, and Ben's eyes narrow slightly as if he's wary.

Angela wades in as if she's mediating. "Look, we've had a couple of bad experiences with flatmates in the past, so this is how it works. You pay in advance. You keep your food on the second shelf of the fridge. You don't help yourself to our stuff, and we don't touch yours. You clean the kitchen as you used it."

"Fair enough," I respond, wondering why everything is so separate. _Don't we ever eat together?_

Ben hands me a sheet of paper. "This is the schedule for the times we need the shower, so you work around that, then we won't have a problem. Masses of long hair all over the bathroom _will_ be problem, Bella. I'm sorry to sound harsh, but it's easier if we get this out of the way."

"That's okay, I'm happy to clean the bathroom every week if you want to take the vacuuming."

Angela's eyes light up, and she pulls a pack of cookies from a cupboard, placing some on a plate for us to share.

"That suits me, Benzo," she says, smirking at me, and I gather that Ben doesn't actually do any of the domestic duties himself. He just shrugs and agrees with her. It looks like I'm in, and I glance at Edward who winks at me as if he approves.

* * *

Edward is working, laboring for a builder, and every time I call him, there's a jackhammer or a saw going in the background. I can tell he's tired, and I'm still worried about his health, although he keeps assuring me he's fine. We catch another meal together where he tells me all about the job, how they've been ripping out walls in an old place. He says it's very satisfying smashing into things and seeing them topple, but it's messy work, and they have to wear masks all day. Between the masks and the accents, he can hardly understand their instructions half the time.

He apologizes that he hasn't been able to see much of me, saying next week he'll have more time.

I take in the sights of London with a Kiwi couple who've been staying at the hostel on my floor, and Edward joins us for dinner. They are fascinated with our stories of what it was like working together on the island because they're about to head to Spain to do something similar. I'm tipsy when we leave the restaurant, and when I mention I don't have anyone sharing with me tonight, Edward follows me back.

Sitting on my bed, he tells me his father and sister are coming to London soon. My fingers play in his hair, and his eyes close as he enjoys the attention. His lips look so kissable that I lean in for a tiny peck, just to see if they feel as good as I remembered. He opens his eyes and touches my cheek, then kisses me back, surrounding me with an embrace I thought I'd never experience again.

The kiss builds into something I wasn't expecting, overwhelming me, and my body betrays me, communicating everything I've been holding back. I pull him with me as I lay down, desperately ready for another connection.

"Oh, fuck," he whispers and moves to my neck. "Do you know how much I want this?" he asks, breathing into my ear. "But this is not how it's supposed to happen." He raises himself up, hovering over me as I pant and feel cheap all of a sudden. "I want to earn this, Bella. I want to make you love me first."

Telling him I never stopped loving him would sound like empty words right now. I want him to love me too, and I wouldn't seem like much of a catch if he knew how I couldn't get over him, even when I thought I'd never see him again. When I sit up, I smooth my hair, knowing he's absolutely right.

"I'm sorry, Edward. I did not mean for that to happen. We can't just take up where we left off, can we?"

"No, we can't. I have too much to make up to you, and I'm not ready yet." He finishes the job of tidying my hair and smiles at me, as if he's pleased we've figured something out. "I should go. I have another early morning."

Edward offers to help me move into the apartment, and I thank him, but say I think I'll be fine with the one bag I've been carting around Europe for six months. Angela and Ben are astounded when I move in with so little.

That afternoon, I start putting a new life together. I come back with pillows, bed linens, and towels, then go out again for groceries and a couple of bottles of wine. After I cook dinner, we chat for the evening, gradually getting used to each other's accents and ways of talking.

Ben is studying Political Economy at the nearby King's College, and Angela is doing modern dance at a school in Covent Garden. They are high school sweethearts, down from Sheffield, and they are adorably sweet to each other. When they ask about Edward, I tell them we're friends, and they don't pry any further. They watch me, listening to every word, as I recount my recent vacation.

I already like them.

Later that night, I set up my laptop and check the blog comments, responding to everyone who's inquired about Klaus' whereabouts. Writing about his recent sightseeing adventures, I say that he's found a temporary home in London. While I'm at, I let Mom and Dad know my new address.

Angela's hours at college are not long, and she works pulling beers at a nearby pub to give them some income. Ben spends all his time studying when he is at home, so it gives her an outlet, and she invites me to come there anytime to have dinner with her. She shows me the local temp agencies, and I send my details to every newspaper and magazine I can find.

With four thousand dollars in my account, I'm getting close to my emergency money. I'm not desperate yet, but I can see that looking for bar work might be wise if I don't get a real job.

I leave a message on Tanya's cell, asking if she's back in the country, and she calls back, saying she's staying at her parents' home in Canterbury. She tells me to come down on the train, and she'll pick me up from the station, saying there are lots of touristy things to do. I agree to call her when I can confirm a date.

Texts come in from James, asking me why I haven't accepted his offer. I tell him he still hasn't _made_ me a firm offer, and he immediately asks me to join him for dinner to discuss it. I decline, calling Rosalie that night for a pep talk.

" _We're in the Cotswolds!"_ she screeches into the phone over the sound of a rowdy crowd of people. _"This pub has a stuffed fox's head on the wall. It's so cool. What's happening on the job front?"_

"Nothing, yet. I may have to find some bar work to keep me going. James is still texting me."

" _Ignore him, and try to keep your chin up. Taking some bar work is a good idea. You might meet a customer who knows someone who knows someone else."_

"True. I didn't consider tapping into the network of London drunks to get a job on Fleet Street, but it's worth a try. I feel better already. Thanks, Rose."

" _Anytime,"_ she says with a giggle. _"See you when we get back."_ I notice she asks nothing about Edward. Maybe she finally realizes that it's better to lay off him if she wants to keep me as a friend.

* * *

" _Come over to my place tonight?"_ Edward asks, calling me at lunch. It's the first time I've had an invitation to see where he's staying.

"I can't. Angela has invited Ben and I to a performance at her dance school. I'm delighted actually. We've come a long way in a short time."

" _Okay, can I see you tomorrow?"_

"Absolutely. I'll call you in the morning."

The school is a few blocks back from Covent Garden Station, and winding our way through the streets, we have to walk out on the road around green construction barriers. Angela says the work has been going on for a while now, and she's heard it's going to be a pub or a restaurant.

After the performance, which I don't really understand but commend her highly for, Ben suggests a drink on the way back to the Tube. Happy she survived without falling over and spraining something, Angela puts her arm through mine, and we wander slowly back the same way to the station.

This time, when we pass the building under construction, we hear Van Morrison playing inside, and she stops to peek in. "I think that was a man in there. He looked like he was wearing a towel," she says quietly.

"Get away from there, you perv." I look in myself, missing the towel-clad man.

"I'm not a perv. I didn't know anyone was staying there."

"Come on, love." Ben calls to her, already starting to walk ahead.

"I like his taste in music," I say, lingering, as "Moondance" takes me to another time and place, and she wraps her arm around mine again, pulling me away.


	9. Chapter 9

_**It's been a hell of a week, physically, emotionally, mentally. To Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley - thanks for making time for me amid everything you've got going on. Individually, you are amazing. Together, you are everything to me.**_

 ** _A common thread wove its way through reviews this week. Was that Edward in the towel? Why is he being so secretive?_**

 _ **Well, here you go...**_

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

Edward invites me to come to Covent Garden Station, where he hands me a coffee with a sheepish look on his face. When I ask him what he's up to, he just answers, "Ready to see my place?"

I nod, and he kisses my hand. There's something different about him today, like he's more lively than I've seen him since I arrived. I follow him from the station, realizing this is the same way we came yesterday.

"Morning, Ed," an elderly gentleman, walking a wiry terrier, smiles as walk toward him.

"Out for a walk, Jack? Is she better?"

"Much better, thank you."

Neither of them make any move to stop and talk. It's just like a passing greeting from a couple of locals in the street.

"Angela's dance school is a block or two from here. We walked along here last night."

"Really?" he asks, slowing down as we reach the same green barriers, handing me his coffee so he can unlock the entry. Then he opens the front door with his key and welcomes me in.

"What do you think?"

I'm not sure what we're doing here, so I don't understand the question. I thought we were gong to where he was staying, and this looks more like the place he's been working.

"Uh."

"This is my pub," he says, waving an arm in the air.

Still confused, I reply, "Well you were right then. It _is_ primitive."

"No, I mean this is _my_ pub. I own it."

"You _own_ it?" I echo, wondering if I heard him correctly. He nods with a big smirk and now I'm wary, waiting for the punch line. "This is Central London. How do you afford this?"

He looks around as if he hardly believes it himself. "Well, I didn't pay for it. My Dad gave it to me after my grandfather died a few months back."

"Oh... I'm sorry."

"S'okay. I didn't know him very well," he replies with an expression that says he wished he had. "It was a pub a long time ago, and then it was their residence. I'm bringing it back to the original."

As I check out all the open space, I cannot imagine it as a home. "Is this where you've been working?"

"Yeah." He grins, takes a few steps, and opens his arms. "The bar will go here, and the kitchen is in that room at the back. The stairs are good. The electrical has been done, but there's no upstairs bathroom yet. That's the next thing."

"You're really living here?"

He laughs and keeps moving, pointing out where they've taken out walls, before showing me the ancient kitchen he's about to rip out.

We peek into the downstairs bathroom with its rusty old shower and bathtub. "That's all going. There will be toilets down here." Then he opens a door, revealing a backyard stacked with demolition junk. "Beer garden out here."

Climbing the stairs, we enter Edward's living area, and it saddens me to see how little he has up here. In this big room, there's just a single bed with an old chair for a lamp and his phone charger to sit on. Clothes hang on hooks on the wall.

I walk over to the window and look down on the street where people are walking, coming and going from an assortment of shops and restaurants. It's not bustling like the block closer to the station, but there are plenty of potential customers if he does this right.

When I turn around, he's sitting on the bed, looking at the ceiling. As he looks up and catches me watching him, he smiles, and it's a smile I've never seen before. He's proud.

Without thinking, I go straight to him and sit in his lap, putting my arms around his neck. As his arms surround me, he winces, and then lifts me by my backside to make himself more comfortable.

"I spent the last two days cleaning up downstairs. I'm aching all over, but I couldn't let you see it before. It was such a mess."

My heart melts, and I play with his hair. "You did that for me?"

"Yeah, I wanted it to be perfect. I thought I had it all planned out, but you just had to come back early, didn't you?" he says, giving me a squeeze.

"Blame Emmett for ending the trip early."

"I can't believe you're here," he says, with eyes suddenly full of emotion. "God, I missed you, Bella."

Seeing him like that, a lump forms in my throat.

"I'm so sorry." He holds me tighter and then resettles me on his lap. "If there was another way, I would have taken it, but what future did we have when your father was a cop? ' _Hey Dad, this is my boyfriend, Edward! And what do you do, son?'_ Yeah, that would have been peachy all round."

The way he says it, using a cowboy's voice for Dad, makes me chuckle, but I know it _was_ hopeless. Something had to change, and it looks like he's made it happen.

"Are things okay between you and _your_ Dad?"

Edward raises his eyebrows and thinks about his answer. "Yes, after the initial shock of finding out what I'd been doing. That was some phone call, believe me, but you know what? He forgives me."

I'm so pleased he has some support now, and I hug him, resting my cheek on his shoulder.

"I left no ties with that world, and anyway, I didn't do anything I feel ashamed of."

Lifting my head, I'm interested to hear him justify that statement.

"How did you get away from that terrible man, the man who set you up, the one you tried to kill?"

Edward's eyes are like saucers. "Shit, I never tried to kill him! I went to him the day I left the island and apologized for not respecting him, told him he was better than me and that I was leaving. I buttered him up real good."

"You put a gun to his head in front of me and pulled the trigger. Have you forgotten?"

"I've never put a bullet into a gun in my life, Bella. It's all bluff with those dudes. He had to believe at the time I would kill him, and that pistol came in handy a couple of times with the old 'only two bullets left' trick."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"There are certain things that you keep only to yourself. Once it leaves your lips, it can leave someone else's, and there goes my cred on the street."

"So, you didn't trust me," I say, feeling insulted, attempting to squirm out of his arms. I kept every one of his secrets.

He holds on tight and stops me from moving. "Hey, I didn't trust someone else wouldn't make you talk. If something had happened, you would have eventually told the cops everything if you thought it would help me. Your father would have forced you anyway. You can't tell what you don't know."

I stop being petulant, accepting that he's probably right. "Okay, so what happened next?"

"I caught a bus to Jacksonville. Thought about you. Hit rock bottom."

He takes my hand and holds it to his cheek, looking at me with eyes now intensely green. This is not a place he likes to revisit, and I know what it's like. It's exactly how I felt at the time.

"It looked pretty bleak until I saw a sign to a commercial diving school. I remembered one of the barmen talking about how much money you could make with just a high school diploma, so I went in and talked to them about it. It cost a shit ton of money and six months of my life, but it's now paying for these renovations."

"So where were you when you called in December?"

"Open water training on their ship. I needed to hear your voice, see you, and get your opinion on the plan to run my own bar. That fucking phone line. I wanted to smash that satellite phone. However…" He puts a finger under my chin and kisses me lightly. "It did give me some hope when you didn't snarl at me. You sounded like you didn't hate me after all." After one more kiss, I can't help but smile at him. "I thought I stood a chance with you if I proved I could do it."

He finishes the sentence off with another kiss, a little deeper this time.

"One month on, one month off," I say, with some resignation, as he kisses my jaw. "It's not forever, right?"

"Absolutely not," he murmurs into my neck. "It's just a way to make money fast. This here is my dream."

Closing my eyes, I can feel his tongue, hot on my skin. "Well, I guess you've gone to a lot of trouble to go straight for me so…" He silences me with a rapturous kiss, and soon I'm moaning, holding the back of his neck. Then there's a loud knock on the door downstairs.

"Oh, fuck. That'll be the plumber. I can't send him away." Edward kisses me one more time before lifting me off him. "He's coming up here," he adds as he starts down the stairs.

I hear them talking and laughing, and then the sound of two heavy sets of feet as they come up. "This is my girl, Bella," Edward tells the plumber, grinning.

"O'right luv?" the man asks, as if he calls everyone "love." I smile at Edward and nod.

He winks at me and follows behind the man who immediately starts measuring and writing things down. I can't understand a word he says, but Edward seems to get it, answering appropriately. Edward turns to me and asks, "Would you use a bathtub?" The plumber has his pencil ready for my answer.

"What's the alternative?" I inquire, since they've asked for my opinion.

"Shahwer ornly, noh bahth." I have to look at Edward to translate.

"Do you ever have a bath?" he chips in.

"Might be nice in the winter," I answer, popping my eyebrows slightly.

The look Edward gives me makes me blush. "Yeah, we'll have a bathtub, a big one," he answers, without looking at the plumber.

With a grunt, the man continues measuring while Edward and I stare at each other. Edward including me in this makes me want to squeal.

The plumber interrupts our amorous gaze with more questions before they descend the stairs to start on the quote for the ground floor. I sit on Edward's bed and look around the room, imagining it generations ago, and wondering how they would have occupied the space. Even with the bathroom taking up the back corner, now marked out with chalk on the floor, it's a big area.

It makes me smile when I think of Edward making his dream come true, and I admire him for what he's achieving. He has been lucky in getting a property like this as an inheritance, but I like seeing him take charge.

Everything is changing so fast. We walked in the door of his pub, still tentative with each other, and now he wants us to be a couple again.

So do I.

The sound of an incoming text interrupts my daydream. I've missed one from James, asking me when I'm available to meet, and I sigh, knowing I have to do something about him sooner or later. The latest text is from Rosalie.

" _We're in Bath! Very Roman. You would love it here! Why haven't you contacted me? Are you busy going for interviews? Tell me you are not letting Edward get in the way of your plans. Love ya! Em says hi. Back in a few days."_

I swear I hear the sound of the bubble I'm in bursting. It's not Edward who's the problem. He's already ten steps ahead of me, and I still don't have a job. For me to stay in this country and work, I have to find an employer prepared to sponsor me. Otherwise, I'm going home to Seattle, so it's time to get my priorities right.

Getting Edward's attention at the bottom of the stairs, I tell him I have to go. He excuses himself and comes over, following me to the front door and taking my hand.

"Did I embarrass you in front of him? I didn't mean to, really."

I shake my head and smile at him. "No, of course not, but that _was_ some look you gave me."

He stares down at our hands, and then glances up. "I thought you looked at me the same way." His eyes start to blaze, and I gasp at how devastating he is. "I want you to look at me like that, Bella. I want you and me in our bathtub one day."

 _Oh God, our bathtub._

There he goes again, talking as if he sees a future together, here in his pub, and I can't guarantee it will happen. I cannot let him down, not after he has moved to another country for me. He's watching me carefully, and his eyes show defeat when I don't answer immediately.

"I'm rushing you now, aren't I? If you want to punch me, then go ahead because I know I earned it. Just believe that everything I'm doing is for you, Bella, for us."

He looks so beautiful and genuine, and I do believe him. I am going to trust that he can commit to living within the law and that he really means what he says.

"I will make everything up to you, I promise," he adds, as if he's pleading.

Kissing him, I say, "I believe you. I really do, and I would love nothing more than to stay here, but I have to go, Edward. I need to find myself a job if I'm going to stay in London."

A broad grin takes over his face, and he nods. "Yeah, I guess you do. You go, girl."

I kiss him and ask, "Come over for dinner tonight night, and I'll cook."

He sighs heavily, shaking his head. "The kitchen guy is coming to do the quote this evening."

"Tomorrow night then?"

"I'd love to," he answers and kisses my hand. "Go to the offices in person, Bella. It's harder to say no to a face, especially one as gorgeous as yours."

"Oh, stop it," I say, kissing his cheek.

"I mean it," he responds, with a kiss to my lips and a squeeze of my hip as I laugh, then walk away.

The first thing I do is call James to apologize for not getting back to him. Even though Rosalie has warned me, I need a fallback position. He asks if I'll join him at five at "The Parcel Yard", part of King's Cross Station, and I call Angela who says it's the kind of place to have a meal while waiting for a train.

When I get home, I change into my most businesslike clothes, straight skirt, comfortable heels and fitted shirt. I take time with my makeup, using Edward's advice that I need to look my best.

Entering the first office with a speech ready, I say I'm following up on the application I sent and ask if I can see someone about a possible job.

After two speedy dismissals, I decide to try something different, lying by saying I'm here for my interview and using the name of the senior editor from my application.

"He's not here," the young receptionist states nervously.

"I'm a little early. The appointment is for two o'clock. I can wait."

"No, he won't be back." The poor girl is looking at her computer screen, trying to find the error. "You said Swan?"

I look at my phone as if it confirms everything. "Two o'clock Tuesday."

After a few phone calls where it's obvious the embarrassed receptionist gets the blame for the appointment mix-up, she apologizes and takes my details, offering to reschedule.

With this minor success, I try the same thing at the next place, and Charlotte, one of their editors, actually sees me, too nice to send me away. I suspect she knows what I've done, but she gives me the time to read everything I've prepared and looks at the website. She tells me she will call if anything comes up.

It feels like something, not a confirmed something, but a tiny step forward. Edward has given me good advice because the British are so polite.

I'm anxious and early for my five o'clock meeting with James, wishing I had another alternative. The restaurant is not the train stop I thought Angela described. It's a beautiful and airy space, designed to live harmoniously within the historic building.

With a glass of white wine, I look through the windows at the platforms under the vast arch of Victoria Station. St. Pancras, where we came in on the Eurostar from Paris, is not far from here.

"Bella! Have you been waiting long?"

It's the first time I've seen James in the flesh. Like the photo I saw of him on the internet, he is an attractive-looking man, dressed impeccably in a jacket, cream shirt, and dark jeans. He shakes my hand enthusiastically, and I tell him I've only just arrived.

"So, how are the new digs?"

"You mean where I'm living? They're good."

"You didn't say where they were."

"No." I am not telling him where I live. He senses my reticence and smiles, catching the attention of one of the staff, who leads us to our table.

"I asked where you live for a reason, Bella. If you take the job with me, you would be working near here. It's just one stop on the Tube. Pimlico."

My ears prick up at that word. "Pimlico?"

"Yes, do you know it?"

"Yeah, I know where it is. It's lovely." This might not be so bad after all. When he gives me his card, I read it and smile, placing it in my purse.

He has a smug look on his face as if he's won something. "Is your friend living with you?"

I bristle at the personal questions. "No, her boyfriend is here in England. At the moment I'm with two other friends. What is the job, James?"

He stops a passing waiter and orders a beer, pointing at my glass. "Another wine?" When I shake my head, he sits back, assessing me.

"The job is twofold. You work the blog just as you have been. Find others who are travelling and share their stories. Ask questions. Create traffic. You're good at it."

Okay. It sounds like administering a website. That's no big surprise, but I'm stuck on the word "twofold."

"What's the other part of the job?"

He leans forward before speaking. "I'm in a bit of a spot, actually. I have a daughter, and I need to travel, so when I'm gone, I want someone to look after her."

For a moment, I'm speechless, and then I'm angry. "You want me to look after your daughter?"

"Yes, she's nine. As long as you get the job done, your days are your own. I only need your evenings. Oh, and drop off and pick up from school, and lunches, of course." He's fucking serious! "Come over, and see your office. It's part of my home, so feel free to move in any time you're ready."

As soon as I see the tiny flick of his eyebrow, I'm on my feet, shaking.

"Bella?"

I don't want to hear another word from his mouth. He's vile and disgusting. He doesn't want a writer, he's offering me a job as his au pair and who knows what else. I would slap his face, but he's not important enough to warrant the scene I could create here. Rosalie was right. He _is_ a creep.

As I'm walking out of his life, I change my mind about a scene, and go back to face him.

"How dare you," I seethe, then empty the contents of my glass down the front of his shirt. His arms fling out, startled, and then he lowers them, looking around to see if anyone has noticed. Expecting his fury, I'm surprised to see him sigh in resignation. He's disappointed in me, or maybe in himself, but I couldn't care less.

Prick.


	10. Chapter 10

_**To Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley - I hope you realize how much I'm in awe of the selfless way you help me with this. Mwah!**_

 _ **I've been slack with review replies this week, sorry, but you kinda swamped me and you have no idea how much research I've been doing to make the story real. Thanks for every one you sent me.  
**_

 _ **Also thank you to the FicSisters for such an incredible write up. Wow!**_

* * *

 **C** **hapter 10**

The tears don't come until I'm on the train, angry at myself for not heeding Rosalie's warnings about James. She knew he would never offer me a real job, and she knows I can't stay in England without one.

Itching to vent to someone and armed with my phone in my hand, I'm not ready for her to say, "I told you so," and Edward might not react well, so it will have to be Angela.

Glancing around me, I know it's inappropriate to discuss this in public, so I send Angela a text to see if she's working. Maybe I'll go to her bar, and she can ply me with alcohol.

Damn. They're having dinner with friends, and Edward is busy, so I decide I might as well go home and cook instead. I love to cook. I've missed cooking. The sauce is always better the second night anyway, and I should see as many people as I can tomorrow – not ideal with a hangover.

I'm coming out of the Tesco Express with groceries when my phone goes off. It's the voice of Charlotte, the editor I saw today, asking if I have a minute to talk to her. The street is loud and busy, so I step into the first pub I find.

" _I've been discussing you with our senior editor this afternoon, Bella. We enjoyed your blog, and we were impressed with your number of followers."_

"Thank you," I reply enthusiastically, hoping to cover the nerves invading my voice, almost certain she's going to say they know there was never any appointment.

" _But…"_ she adds, and I feel my shoulders fall like she's already turning me away. _"You write an amazing and positive travel experience, and it's not always like that. Sometimes you do actually miss the last ferry. There are setbacks to overcome."_

"We didn't have too many setbacks. It really was the trip of a lifetime."

" _I found a piece you wrote about a friend who was injured in St. Moritz and had to go home. It had poignancy. Will you submit something like that with more depth, and can you write it quickly, by tomorrow lunchtime?_

"Yes," I answer without hesitation, knowing I can make something up if I can't find a real situation. It's just an exercise to see if I _can_ write what they want, and whether I can meet a deadline.

" _Excellent. I will send you an email as soon as I hang up. Submit 2,000 words, and then we'll call you if we want to talk about a job."_

I have to clarify the submission time before I go ahead. "What time is lunchtime?"

She laughs and says, _"I'll give you until one o'clock, and I will look forward to receiving it."_

I'm so excited; I race home and start going over scenarios in my head while I chop my ingredients. We didn't miss any connections and escaped getting robbed like others we met. The places we stayed fit our circumstances, so we accepted that some were very basic or tiny because they were cheap. Maybe we had lower standards than most, or we were more realistic.

As I stir, I relive the trip backwards, trying to remember anything that stood out. There were some emotional moments In Paris, but they were mostly nostalgic.

Apart from the boy who was prostituting himself, the memories of Italy were all good, even though I was missing Edward. Then the idea is right in front of me. It would be devastating to lose the person you were travelling with, for whatever reason, ruining a visit to the place you'd always dreamed of going together. That _would_ be a major setback.

Ensuring the lid is tight and turning the sauce down to simmer, I start up my laptop and begin an outline, making a list of emotive words while Googling the images I've seen before. Even though I never visited Lake Maggiore, it is the obvious location for my fictional non-fiction account of pushing on when your heart is aching.

If Edward hadn't contacted me, I know I would have tried to drag Rosalie there when it was only an hour from Milan. Maybe I would have gone on my own and caught up with her in Paris. Either way, I would have been on that ferry, searching for anyone with a tinge of auburn hair. Disembarking at Isola Bella and not finding him would have been soul destroying.

I'm glad I never had to put myself through that horrible, desolate experience.

The paragraphs in front of me fill with the emotion from the months on the island after Edward left, as desperate tears stream down my face. By the time I turn the stove off, I'm amazed at how much I've written. This has been such a cathartic exercise for me; I know I should have done it long ago.

I save that version for myself and start condensing the one I'll submit tomorrow. It's poignant all right.

Exhausted, I fall asleep before Angela and Ben come home, and they are already gone when I wake up the next day.

Editing and re-editing fills my morning, and I hit the send button just after twelve. I'm not kidding myself that they are going to accept the submission and offer me a job, so I dress in my business attire and get out there again.

Today I tackle Fleet Street, meeting the more astute women who think they run the business from the front counter, formidable at detecting my bluff. It's nothing short of embarrassing, but it teaches me to recognize what I'm up against and adjust my approach accordingly. I have to get past them.

Writing off the day as a learning exercise, I go home to make dinner. I'm looking forward to seeing Edward, and he surprises me by arriving early with two bottles of wine. He looks amazing in sunglasses, jeans, a dark button down shirt and a light jacket.

"Hey," he says quietly, smiling and handing me the wine while his eyes linger on my shirt. "You look nice."

Glancing down, I notice I haven't changed yet. "I've been out again, trying to get interviews."

"Any luck?" When I shake my head, he adds, "I'd hire you." He drops his eyes and slides his hands over my hips.

We're still standing at my front door, and I've got to get rid of the bottles I'm holding. "Come in, Edward. I'm cooking."

He closes the door, and I hear him groan. "Smells fantastic."

Feeling like teasing him, I ask, "Do you want to taste my sauce?" I hear him chuckle softly as I place the bottles on the counter.

When I lift the lid of the saucepan, he's right behind me with his fingers at my waist, leaning over my shoulder. Stirring a wooden spoon deep into the steaming sauce, I lift it and blow gently, turning to offer him some.

He's staring at my lips when he opens his mouth to take the spoon in. I swallow at the sight of his tongue and lean into him as he sucks the sauce off the spoon. Then his eyes close, and he surrounds me with his arms. When I replace the lid, I slide my hands up his chest, and we're locked there for an infinitesimal moment with his lips so close, I feel the tingle of a kiss.

"Your lips distract me." He purrs, brushing a thumb across my chin, creating a rush of seduction that sends my pulse racing. He's never unleashed this side on me before, and I have nerve endings lighting up all over me.

All I can think about is getting him in my bed. The thought of his tongue tasting of the sauce makes me whimper, and my fingers lose themselves in his hair.

"Just friends? I didn't think so." Angela startles us, dropping her bag on the couch when I didn't even hear her come in. "Nice to see you again, Edward," she adds with a smug look on her face, going into her room.

Edward pulls me to him, but I push on his chest and giggle, making him smirk.

"You are a bad influence on me," he says, running his hands over my ass.

" _I'm_ a bad influence?" I ask in astonishment.

"Oh, yeah," he replies, tormenting me with another almost kiss. "Bad."

We grin at each other and then break apart so I can start the pasta. While the kettle is boiling, I set four glasses on the table and ask Edward to open the wine and sit down. We'll never get dinner tonight if he keeps hovering around me while I cook.

Ben arrives home, adding a third bottle of wine and shaking Edward's hand. They speak for a while about the pub and the plans for the renovations, showing an ease in each other's company that I enjoy watching. Filling their glasses encourages them to stay and keep me company while I finish the meal.

They're so different, but they speak the language of confident men. Questions like "How old are you?" and "What do you have to do to start a business in a foreign country?" roll off Ben's tongue with no apparent motive. He's just direct about what interests him, and Edward is happy to respond.

Angela joins us, and much to my surprise, it comes out that Edward was born here and has dual nationality, so he can stay as long as he wants. They toast this piece of news before refilling everyone's glass.

Ben asking how Edward can afford the property starts a conversation about Edward's diving job, and soon they are talking about diving bells and saturation.

When I see Angela shudder, gooseflesh spreads over me, and I ask, "You get saturated? Isn't it cold?"

Ben looks at Edward, at me, and then back at Edward. It's obvious I'm missing something.

Edward answers. "No, we have warm water suits to protect us from the cold. It's not that kind of saturation."

"Okay." I don't think of myself as stupid, so they can explain it to me. "What kind of saturation is it then?"

Edward looks like he's searching for a simple way to continue. "When you dive, the weight of the water puts pressure on your body. Under pressure, the gases in your body compress as well, so when you come up to the surface, the rate of ascent has to be carefully controlled so you don't form bubbles of gas in your bloodstream and your tissues.

"On a deep dive, the gases turn to liquid. Amazingly, the human body can stay in this saturated state without harm as long as the pressure keeps up, but the ascent to the surface takes a long time."

"Fascinating," Ben comments, enthralled with Edward's explanation. My hand is covering my mouth, and I'm losing my appetite.

"How long?" Angela asks at the same moment the words enter my brain.

"Five days."

"Crumbs," she comments with her face resting on her palm. My stomach feels like it just plummeted to the floor.

"It's not very cost-effective to pay us for five days decompressing after a dive, so they keep us under pressure for twenty-eight days. Then we can continue to dive and decompress once at the end."

"How do they keep you under pressure?" she asks, and I know I don't want this answer.

"Six of us live together in pressurized living quarters on the ship. Everything we need, like food and laundry, passes between us and the ship's crew via airlocks at the same pressure. When our shift starts, they attach the diving bell, three of us crawl in, and they lower us to the bottom. Two go in the water and one stays in the bell. At the end of the shift, they bring us back up, and twelve hours later, we do it all again."

In silence, we take all this in because, in describing the reality of their everyday life, Edward has revealed a kind of prison where they can't get out if they want to.

"Are we going to eat?" Ben asks, breaking the tension, and everyone looks at me.

Suddenly, Edward is on his feet, pulling out the chair next to me, cradling me in his lap and looking at me anxiously, while Angela jumps up to check on the food.

"I wasn't sure how you'd react, but I didn't think you'd go sheet white. Are you okay?" he asks, moving my hair over my shoulder.

I nod, but I don't know if I _am_ okay. Just thinking about him working under water is bad enough, but now there's liquid gases, pressurized living quarters, and five days decompressing. It feels like I can't breathe properly.

"My chest feels tight. Don't you get claustrophobic?"

He shakes his head as if it doesn't worry him in the slightest, and I rest my head on his shoulder.

"How deep do you dive?" Angela continues, serving the food. I thank her and return to my seat, wanting to tell her it's time to shut up.

"It was 450 feet last time," Edward answers casually. "Someone said it was the height of the London Eye."

 _Oh, God. I think I'd rather he was still a criminal._

They devour the food while I move mine around my plate, trying to eat something since I spent so much time on it.

"This is really excellent. Can I have the recipe for the pub?" Edward asks, quite seriously.

"Sure," I answer, pushing my plate in his direction. "Do you want some more? I can't finish it."

He only waits for a few seconds before taking my plate and smiling as he starts on my leftovers.

"Hey, Bella, you haven't told us what happened with James," Angela asks.

Without knowing it, she is spoiling my evening with her incessant questions, but since Edward has been honest, I want to be too.

"I won't be seeing him again, Ang. I threw a glass of wine over him and walked out." Chuckling, I'm glad I changed my mind because it feels good now to admit what I did.

Edward puts his fork down and glares at me. "More information, please?"

"The man has no scruples. I still can't believe he actually spoke to my father and convinced him he was legit! He even paid me for work I did for his online magazine. After all the messages and phone calls, he goes and offers me a job to move in with him and look after his daughter when he's travelling. I don't think there was going to be much 'writing' if you know what I mean. Rosalie is going to have a field day with this."

"Did he touch you?" Edward asks, his eyes dark and angry.

"No," I answer, meeting his gaze in an attempt to settle him.

"Bloody tosser," Ben adds, slowly shaking his head, while Angela's eyes flit cautiously between the two men.

"I want to pay him a visit." I can't read Edward's expression now, and I'm sorry I spoke up.

"No, Edward," I challenge, trying to keep my voice calm.

"I really do want to pay him a visit, Bella. Where does he live?"

Ben snorts and adds, "I'll go with you, mate."

Edward's legs are vibrating under the table, making me panic. A visit from Edward could mean anything.

"I'm not telling you, so forget it, both of you."

Edward snatches my phone and goes over to the sink, intently scrolling the screen.

"Edward?" I get up and try to take it from him, but he spins out of my reach.

"I'm doing this," he demands, holding it to his ear, raising his eyebrows mischievously, and I sit down defeated. At least this is better than Edward turning up on James' doorstep and doing who knows what. Actually, I'm kinda interested to hear what he's going to say.

"Noh, not Bellah. A'm her coosin. Y'uv offendit our lassie, but sheez too nice to let me doo to you wot I want to doo to you and ah hae respect fur 'er. But we hae nae respect fur ye. Sae watch yer back coz me an' mah fowk wull be waitin'."

 _Jesus, the accent..._

Ben slaps his leg and grins as Edward waits for whatever James is saying. After a roll of his eyes, Edward continues. "'Er faither's a policeman, ye divit. Don't com near 'er. Don't contact 'er. We noh where ye live. Understand?"

He hangs up, puts the phone down in front of me and smiles sweetly.

"He sounds like he just pissed himself."

They crack up, and Ben asks, "Where did you learn to speak like that?"

 _He can talk to me like that anytime..._

"I just lived with four Scotsmen for a month, and that's how _they_ talk. Oh, and he said to tell you he was sorry, Bella. You better block his number."

As I watch them talk with amusement about what just went down, I like that only I know the old Edward. I wish I was still in his lap because there's something about how dangerous he can be that's always turned me on.

When I put my hand on his thigh possessively, he covers it with his own.

Angela and Ben clean up, a little drunk and bumping hips as they wash the dishes. Ben seems so different to the reserved guy I first met. He's been kind and willing to help out, especially when I go to the trouble to make him dinner from scratch. This arrangement with them is working out really well, and I'm very happy they seem to like Edward.

"You finished?" Ben asks, when I'm the only one left with wine in my glass. Edward has long ago drained his, but while mine sits here, it feels like the evening isn't over, and he can't leave. He's yawned a couple of times, but it's awkward asking him to stay when they're still here with us. Since dinner has been over for a while, and he's made no move to go, I'm taking it as a good sign.

With a big stretch, Angela announces they are going to watch television for a while, and they thank me for dinner. With a TV in their room, they often do this, but Ben smacks her behind as they walk off tonight, making me chuckle.

"Do you want me to go?" Edward asks, and I shake my head quickly.

"Stay with me tonight." I kiss him deeply, making sure he understands what I mean.

He's so relieved, he pulls me into his lap. "I thought you were going to send me home."

I can only smirk as I reply. "Not now I've heard your Scottish accent."

"Oh, aye," he says with a chuckle. "Yae can call me McMasen if ya like." With a flick of his eyebrows, he adds, "I'll even show ya mah kilt."

I smother him with a hug and hum softly. "You're different, so much happier and content."

He pulls back and looks serious, moving my hair off my face. "I'm no different, Bella. I'm just… comfortable now. I don't have to think twice when someone asks me a question anymore, and it's all because of your influence. Thank you for making me feel free… and for not kicking me to the curb in the process."

After a tiny kiss, I say, "I love you, Edward. I never stopped loving you."

With a smile bursting across his face, he runs his fingers along my jaw. "This is how we're supposed to happen," and I know exactly what he means. "Let's go to bed."


	11. Chapter 11

_**To Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley - we all survived another week of real life! Thanks for being a part of mine.**_

 _ **Quite a few of you seemed to like McMasen, so I thought I'd bring him back for a cameo role in this chapter. LOL.**_

* * *

 **Chapter 11**

Edward leans against my desk once I close the door to my room. He picks up Klaus, saying he thought he was bigger from his photo on the internet.

I watch him, curious about his memories of our one time together, because I can't imagine it gets better than that.

"Come here," he says softly, opening his legs to me. "What's the matter?"

"I… nothing, I guess," I answer, taking Klaus and playing with his horns. "It's been a long time."

His eyes soften, agreeing with my statement, and his arms come around me gently. "Do you want to just sleep tonight?"

Putting Klaus down and cupping Edward's cheek, I can only imagine what it must be like for a man to deny himself when he's so close to getting what he wants. As I'm shaking my head, something buried in my subconscious bubbles to the surface, and comes straight out.

"Those women, Edward, the ones you trained on the island. What did you train them to do?"

"You don't need any training from me." He takes my hand and kisses it. "You're perfect as you are." Then he turns my hand over and bites gently into the fleshy part of my palm. I'm captivated by the sight, but thirsting for this knowledge.

"Tell me."

He looks up through those thick eyelashes, dragging his teeth over my palm.

"You want to know all the secrets, Bella?"

Trying to sound confident, I answer with, "Yes."

A tiny frown crosses his brow and then disappears as he looks over my face.

"Well, there are a lot of myths surrounding men's sexuality," he offers, pulling me in closer. "The joke about us only needing a woman to turn up naked with a six pack of beer has done us a lot of harm."

I smile because I actually believed that was probably true.

"We love it when a woman initiates erotic foreplay, and says 'yes' with body language."

"What else?" I ask, feeling the long line of his back.

He runs his hands over my shoulders, looks down at my chest, and starts opening buttons, touching the skin on show.

"We're visually stimulated, and we're not thinking straight when we get a glimpse of fancy underwear. We obsess about it, driven to see what it looks like on, and how it feels." He opens another button, and my head swims in fantasy, my nerves disappearing. "It doesn't take long for us to want to know what it looks like as we take it off."

He smirks as he removes my shirt, and his eyes lock on my bra. Breathing in and then out deeply, he slips his hands around my ribs, shaking his head very slowly.

"God, you are a gorgeous woman. I know how lucky I am to be here."

"I think I'm the lucky one," I respond, releasing the buttons of _his_ shirt, needing to see and touch what's underneath. I push the shirt off him, coming close enough to kiss, but I'm not ready to lose myself and give up this view yet. It's the first time I've seen him without a tan, but he's no less devastating with his jeans riding low. Somehow, he looks stronger but leaner. With my hands moving over his chest, I resist the urge to kiss as I follow the shape of the body I've missed.

I like drawing this out.

"We love compliments, appreciative looks, or words," he says, tracing the edges of my bra.

With only a hum as a comment, I undo the button of his jeans, the heavy fabric straining to contain what's going on underneath, and I pop my eyebrows, signalling my approval. He watches my face as I carefully drag his zipper down, an almost-kiss teasing him like he did to me in the kitchen. He reacts by sliding his hands over my ass and yanking me to him, making me squeak and smile.

"Physically, we're not so different, but men like to be handled rougher than most women realize."

As I free his penis from its confines, he shuts his eyes when I squeeze and move up and down his shaft. He covers my hand with his and shows me just how hard he likes it.

"Tell me more secrets," I command, loving the feeling of controlling him.

Struggling to keep his eyes open while my hand moves on him, he asks, "How far do you want to go?"

"All the way, Edward." _All the way until you're inside me._

He opens his eyes wide and grips my jaw, kissing me intensely, revealing everything he's been holding back. Swept into a world of wet heat, I moan from the feeling of his tongue on mine and the throb of his penis in my hand. Pulling out of the kiss, he looks down between us and says, "Stop."

Unhooking my bra and lowering the zipper of my skirt, he cups my breasts, watching the garment loosen off me, and his tongue peeks out. I whimper, and he murmurs, "These are… just..." His words are swallowed up in his hot breath on my nipple right before he strikes.

As he takes a breast into his mouth, it's like he's going to devour me, and the most luscious sound comes from his throat when he changes sides. He doesn't look up either, as if this is all for him, but he's wrong; this is for me.

Dropping in front of me, he kisses his way down, following my skirt as he slips it off. Then he nibbles the front of my panties and I gasp, holding on to his head as my legs weaken. "Personally," he speaks directly to my panties, peeling them down, "I like to see where I'm going." When he looks up, his eyes are full of lust, and he guides me to sit on the edge of the bed. "Show me," he growls, silk coating his voice.

This is not something I've done before. Yes, he's been down there, but it happened while I was in a euphoric state. This is different. I've never been part of this kind of raw sexuality, and I feel him challenging me. He looks dangerous right now, like he'll have his way no matter what I decide. Ruled by a pulse beat inside me, I've never been more turned on in my life.

As I slowly spread my legs and lean back, a sexy grin takes over his face, then he tastes what he wants. My mouth drops open at the sensation, watching him lick and suck me until I eventually fall back, fully submitting to the orgasm.

 _Oh, God. It's even better than I remember._

Panting and shaky, I move up the bed and watch him undress. We smile at each other as he joins me, skin to skin, welcomed by my legs around his waist, his mouth and tongue claiming me as I grab hold of his hair.

I grind against his erection, and his breathing is heavy when he takes over. He kisses me so passionately, squeezing my breasts, that it doesn't take long for the combination of sensations to make me come undone again. Pushing inside with a groan and a look of ecstasy, he holds still for the last of my orgasm, and then his eyes blaze as he moves, lifting my hips to meet his thrusts.

Slowing down, he takes my legs from around him, and twists me over, pounding into me, hard and deep. I have to bury my face in a pillow to dampen a sound I didn't even know I could make as the buildup increases and explodes.

When we're finally wrapped around each other, sweaty and spent, I don't recognize what's wrong with me. I can feel where he's been, and I can't still be horny, but I'm wide awake in a weird state, wanting more of him. He cannot go back to the pub and sleep alone again when I'll never want to give this up. I tighten my hug because I refuse to lose him again.

"I love you so much," he murmurs into my hair and pulls me closer with his leg. "Stay with me forever."

A wave of calm sweeps over me, and I realize I was craving some assurance that we would continue through tomorrow and the next day. With a contented smile on my face and my hands gliding over his back, I can drift off to sleep.

I wake up to a thumb grazing my nipple and an erection pressing into my leg.

"Good morning, Edward," I murmur, still half-asleep.

"God, your tits look good when you breathe."

"When I breathe?" I ask, quietly giggling.

"Yeah... spectacular," he responds as his eyes follow his hand moving over my chest, down to my waist and back up again. I'm seduced by the expression on his face right now. He's so beautiful and sexy.

When he looks up, I pull him down to kiss me, and his thigh covers mine, a soft groan announcing the moment his fingers discover I'm ready for him. My hips move on their own as he touches me, but he's pinning my legs down in the most delicious way.

He's doing it to me again, overwhelming me with so much sensation that I moan loudly, aware of how hard he is now against my leg.

"Get on top," he purrs. "I want to touch that beautiful body while you fuck me."

 _Jesus... the compliment, the command full of desire. I could never refuse his kind of temptation._

Edward stays in bed until I say I have to get going, making me fall more deeply in love with him. Without telling me directly, I know he means this sweet gesture to allay any fear I have of a repeat of what happened on the island.

After mornings spent visiting newspapers and magazine offices, I go to the pub in the afternoon where people are coming and going, so we don't have a lot of alone time. We're both highly aware of each other, insatiable, and ready to take any opportunity we can.

The sound of Edward locking the front door sends my heart racing, knowing one of us is going to pounce, for this is the place where we can have every kind of sex without worrying about noise. Back at Waterloo, we're like any other couple in public, enjoying the company of our roommates and going to bed, making love tenderly or talking each night.

I see Edward handing money to Ben. He turns up with the things we need. There's no conflict about him staying, and he stays every night.

"Bella?" Tonight, Edward's smooth voice is part of my dream. I have my hand under McMasen's kilt and it's warm in there. "Bella?" I can even feel his breath this time, right in my ear.

"Hmm?" I answer, hoping that dream Edward will play along and speak in the accent I love.

"I'm wide awake with you doing that. Are you trying to protect it, or are you groping me in your sleep?"

Startling, I become fully conscious and aware of what I'm doing. My hand is wrapped around his hardening penis, and I burst out in giggles, burying my face in his chest, apologizing and promising to be good.

 _Whoops._

With July fast-approaching, my chest constricts every time he mentions going back to that other world. I can't get my head around him being locked up with no escape. He tries to explain that it's no different from a long flight, using descriptions of the peace he feels on the ocean floor and the incredible creatures he sees down there to make me feel better. They don't, but I love him, and he needs this money to make his dream come true.

We spend the weekend getting ready for two important events. Edward's father and sister are arriving on Tuesday, and Rosalie and Emmett are back this Sunday. Edward announces that Emmett has agreed to manage the pub while he's away diving. I wonder how Rosalie is taking that, but Edward guarantees that Emmett has month-long vacations planned in between to keep her happy.

 _Of course he does._

During heat wave conditions, Edward dismantles the old kitchen cupboards, and I spend more time than I should checking out his muscles flexing and straining against his t-shirt. He's so entertaining that when Rosalie and Emmett arrive, we're still moving the last of the debris into the dumpster at the back of the property. We're sweaty and dusty, wearing gloves that have to come off before I can hug them. They both look gorgeous and relaxed, glowing after their vacation.

Rosalie stands back and sighs with her eyes roaming over the space as if she expected something more completed, I guess. She wouldn't have any idea of the work Edward has already done to get the place ready for the interior work to commence.

Emmett asks a lot of questions about Edward's plans and then adds, "So what's the name of the pub?"

"The original name was Masen's, and I'm sticking with that for historical purposes."

"You should call it something like 'The Disappearing Duck.' We've stayed in lots of places with names like that, haven't we, Em?" Rosalie covers her choice of words with a laugh, but we all know they're laced with sarcasm.

"Rose." Emmett tries to pull her into line.

Edward laughs, walks over to her, and puts his hand out. "Hi, I'm Edward Masen. You're standing in what was my grandfather's hotel. It's now mine."

He's caught her off guard with his stance of authority, stifling her next comeback. It's rare that she's speechless, and I enjoy the moment while I can.

Edward takes Emmett on the guided tour, and Rosalie looks around again. "Any news on a job yet?"

I shake my head, disappointed. "No, I've had one interview, and they asked me for a submission. I haven't heard back yet."

"What about James?"

"He's not offering the kind of job that will allow me to stay in the country, Rose."

After a knowing raise of her eyebrows, she looks around the ceiling, out the front door, and then back at me. "So Edward really owns this?"

"Yeah," I answer with a smirk.

Emmett blasts down the stairs, taking the last three steps in a leap, and says, "This is going to be awesome." Rose looks at him with love in her eyes.

After a quick freshen up, Edward takes my hand and leads the way to the Covent Garden Piazza where street performers are entertaining the crowd. An escape artist is just finishing his act, ridding himself of a mass of chains. The next performer is a man on a tightrope, juggling knives, and I gasp when he looks like he's losing his balance.

"It's all show," Edward says quietly, wrapping his arms around my waist and planting his chin on my shoulder. "He probably works for Cirque du Soleil during the week." After he kisses my cheek, I watch the man more closely, catching him plan his movements to get the maximum reaction out of the crowd. It is all part of the performance.

Rosalie is more interested in the nearby market and excuses herself, saying she'll be back. Emmett calls after her, pointing to the Punch and Judy Hotel, pretending to hold a glass up and drink.

He looks at me and says, "There's no point in waiting for her. She really likes to shop, doesn't she?"

I laugh and nod, remembering the times I found a place to sit and absorb my surroundings while she hunted for bargains. She had more money than I did, and her bag was much heavier because of it.

We squeeze through the crowd with our pints of beer to find a spot on the terrace where we can continue to watch the performers, but it soon starts raining, and we rush inside, grabbing the last two stools in the place. Edward and I share ours with me standing between his legs, leaning on him.

"You like London, Bella?" Emmett asks.

"I love it, Emmett. There's something about it."

"Does it have anything to do with this guy?" he asks, nodding toward Edward.

"Yeah," I answer with a smile as Edward's arms come around me, and I hold onto his forearms to keep him there.

"It's good to see him happy, isn't it?" Emmett asks, sincerely pleased for his friend.

"It's the best," I answer and feel Edward rocking me softly.

"What do you think Rose would say if I asked her to stick around now? I could help Edward's dad manage the project when he's gone. It's a big job on your own."

"I think she'll want to stay if you do. She missed you, Em."

His lips curl up in a shy smile, and he says, "Yeah, maybe."

Angela and Ben meet us at Barrio Central, a Latin-themed restaurant and bar with cheap food and well-priced cocktails during happy hour. Edward is interested in how they run the business, watching everything, because it's packed even though it's raining tonight.

It's obvious that Rosalie isn't happy, so when she goes to the bathroom, I follow and ask her what's wrong.

"Did you know that Edward talked Emmett into hanging around while his pub is refurbished?"

"It seemed to me like Emmett offered, Rose."

"Where is Edward getting all this money?"

"He has a job as a commercial diver. He's going away for a whole month soon."

She takes this in anxiously. "I don't trust him, Bella. He could be playing us all. How do we know where he's actually going or what he's doing?"

I could erupt, but there's no point. She's made up her mind about Edward, and she's too narrow-minded to give him a chance.

"He wouldn't do that, to Emmett or to me," I tell her as I turn to walk away.

She holds my arm and states, "You know he'll never change, Bella. You're just wasting your time on him."

I look in her eyes and reply, "He doesn't need to change, Rose. He's always been a good person. You just can't see it." I'm so sick of her attitude towards Edward.

Emmett must be a fucking saint to put up with her sometimes.


	12. Chapter 12

_**To Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley - thank you, thank you, thank you. You're just wonderful, inspiring people.**_

 _ **Well it's divided out there. Some of you still don't trust Edward and the rest want Rosalie to get off his case.**_

* * *

 **Chapter 12**

The job situation is demoralizing when I'm not making progress. No matter what I try, I can't seem to achieve more than leaving my resume and contact details, and the emails coming back contain sentences like, "Thank you for your interest." Most haven't even bothered to reject me.

Could it be that I'm a mediocre writer, my blog sucks, and my honors degree is worthless in this country? It really shouldn't be this hard when I'm only asking for an interview.

Angela arranges for me to speak to her boss about casual bar work, and he is impressed with my reference from Davos, but he won't employ me without a working visa. With the influx of people coming from Europe, the immigration laws are so tight that the penalties are scaring everyone. He says I will find those who will employ me illegally, but that I should be prepared to face deportation if I'm caught.

Getting deported is not something I'm prepared to risk.

With only half a dozen offices on my list I haven't visited, nothing I've read has prepared me for the barriers facing foreigners trying to find work in this country.

I need a new plan of attack.

After another morning of rejection, I walk up the street towards Edward's pub, trying to shake off my gloomy disposition because today I'm meeting his family.

"Any luck?" Edward asks, putting his arm around me and guiding me over to meet the man coming down the stairs. He's slightly shorter than Edward, with sandy hair and blue eyes.

I shake my head, ready to put the morning behind me.

"Bella, this is my father."

"Mr. Masen, it's really nice to meet you."

He offers his hand with a smile on his face, very reminiscent of his son's. "It is so very good to meet you, Bella, and please call me Carlisle. I've just been telling Edward what a wonderful job he's doing, and I hear you've been helping."

"Not really. I've hardly done anything."

Edward kisses my hair and pulls me in tight. "Bella's been feeding me well."

"Well, that's an enormous help," Carlisle says with genuine warmth.

He has the weirdest accent from living in two different countries. Some words sound American, and others are totally British.

"Is your sister here?" I ask Edward, excited to meet her.

"Alice? Are you here?" Carlisle is listening, rather than looking for her, and the way he does it is somewhat spooky.

"Yes." The voice comes from behind the kitchen door, now slightly ajar.

"Come on out."

We wait in silence, watching as the door opens slowly, and a tiny girl appears. She's nothing like Edward or her father, with her shoulder-length dark hair and enormous brown eyes.

"Alice, this is Bella."

"Hello," she says softly, without meeting my eyes, and the noise of a hammer on metal upstairs causes her to react. She places her hands over her ears and makes a sound like she's in pain. As soon as the banging stops, she sighs and looks up at me.

"Hi, Alice," I respond, studying her closely.

"You have nice hair."

"Thank you." I smile at her, but she doesn't return the smile.

"And brown eyes. I have brown eyes."

"They _are_ brown and very pretty too, Alice."

She looks away as if I've said the wrong thing, and I glance at Edward for an answer. He shakes his head slightly, as if he's telling me to ignore it.

 _Strange, something strange about her. Does Carlisle realize she should be wearing a bra? She must be thirteen already. Maybe she's immature, sheltered, with no mother around._

"Are we going on the Tube now?"

"Yes, sweetheart, soon. Don't you want to see upstairs first?"

Looking at the stairs, she answers, "No." She spins her finger in the air. "It's London Eye day. Leicester Square, Northern Line, Charing Cross, change at Embankment for Westminster." She sings it as if she's memorized a song.

"Or you can go through to Waterloo. It's close to the Eye," I add because that's my neighborhood.

"Where's my map?" Alice asks anxiously. "I need to check the map."

"It's in your backpack, Alice," Carlisle advises.

She crouches next to a navy pack and unzips several compartments before she locates her metro map.

"Yes, Waterloo is better." She's meticulous, making sure the map is folded just so and all the zippers are fully closed when it's back inside. Then she leans the bag against the wall carefully before coming back over.

There's more clanging from upstairs, and once again she shields her ears. "Can we please go, Dad?"

"Soon," Carlisle answers. "The tickets are for three o'clock, and I need to talk to the plumber first."

"Is it the man I can't understand?" I ask Edward. He chuckles and nods. "Do you want me to take her? She can come to my place while I change, and then we can walk over. I live near there, Carlisle."

Carlisle shoots a glance at Edward before his shoulders drop slightly. "Would you, Bella? That would be fantastic." He takes two folded pages from his jacket and hands them to me.

"Bathroom," Alice states with a sigh, and heads for the toilet.

"Is she okay?" I whisper in Edward's ear, because I have to know what I'm dealing with.

"Yeah," he answers, casually playing with my hair. "Just a little quirky."

I smile at Carlisle, trying to reassure him. "We'll have a great time."

Alice comes out, wiping her hands on her jeans. "Yuk!" She screws her face up, and we all laugh, knowing it won't be long before the downstairs bathroom is gone forever.

From her pack, she takes out a little bag to hang around her neck and pops her phone and card in, before feeding it under her t-shirt, sharing a confident grin with Edward. Her father watches her like a hawk and then nods when she's ready. He tries to hug her goodbye, but she ignores his affection, and I feel sorry for him.

Edward and Carlisle follow us out, and I turn around to wave once we cross the road. Edward has his arm around his father, and they both wave back.

"People don't normally offer to take me out with them," Alice announces. "You must be nicely brought up."

I snort when I realize she's not joking. "Well, thank you Alice. I like to think so."

"Dad said your father is a policeman."

 _That's an interesting fact for her to know. I wonder how much she knows about her brother._

"Yes, he is."

When I think she's about to start a conversation, she's absorbed in the traffic lights, and I puzzle over what it is about her that's odd.

Alice Masen reads all the signs she sees aloud. The escalators going down to the train platforms fascinate her, and the announcements make her face light up. She repeats them over and over, like many other tourists I've seen on the train, so she fits right in.

When we get off at Waterloo, I spot the Marks and Spencer store and glance at her T-shirt, knowing I should do the right thing by the girl. After a quick text to Edward, I tell her, "I have to buy a new bra. Do you need one?"

"Yes!" she answers enthusiastically, "... but I don't know what size."

"You can try some on." I'd bet money Carlisle hasn't taken her for this rite of passage.

Inside the store, Alice heads for the rack with the total support bras and giggles when she holds one up in front of her chest. I hand her a 28A to try on and hang the other one back up.

Asking her if she's ready for some others, I pass a selection through when she opens the changing room door, careful not to look at her or intrude. I remember my mother jarring me by yanking the strap at the back, trying to make my first one sit right. All I wanted was to feel girly at the time, and it was like being fitted for a harness.

Without any fuss, Alice comes out with everything perfectly replaced on their plastic hangers. She's chosen a couple of non-padded bras, one in white and one grey with white polka-dots. I tell her to get another two in the same style, and she confidently pays for them with her card. I purchase the purple lacy bra and panties set I've found on sale with a certain boyfriend in mind.

When we arrive at my place, I tell her it might be nice to wear one of them right away, and she changes in the bathroom, coming out with an air of confidence.

It takes no time for me and my pint-sized companion to reach the London Eye. There are crowds of people, and the lines are long, so I'm glad we have tickets.

Alice is infatuated with the massive structure but indecisive when she sees that we have to enter the capsule while it's moving. She ignores the other people in with us and slides her hands over the glass when we start to rise.

"How old are you?" she asks, without taking her eye off the view.

"Twenty-two."

"When is your birthday?"

"September 30."

"Edward just had a birthday on June 20."

 _That's weird. He never even mentioned it. I can't remember ever talking about birthdays with Edward, but it seems strange he didn't tell me it was last week._

"I'm fourteen in twenty-nine days, but we never celebrate birthdays. We know what day we were born. We just don't celebrate."

"Why is that?" _Maybe it's their religion, another subject we've never touched on._

"Mom was shot and killed at the gas station on Edward's birthday." Alice doesn't even glance my way as she drops this bombshell. "His cake was in the back seat with me."

A huge gush of air escapes me, and I notice another couple has heard her. The man's eyes can't mask his reaction. I don't know how to respond to something like this, especially when she delivers the information without feeling.

"She didn't feel any pain," she adds without a blink. "We tried to have a birthday party once, but it wasn't very happy. You're a year and three months younger than Edward." I try my best to mirror her lack of emotion, but it's hard when I'm reeling. "You seem older. I thought you were twenty-four too." Suddenly her face opens up in a mischievous grin. "I mean… as well."

She starts to giggle, moving beyond the traumatic event as if it's nothing. Wondering if she'll come back to the subject, I wait for her to continue, but she leans on the glass, identifying buildings in London that I've never heard of.

At the very top, I join her and stupidly look down on the distance my man will descend below the surface in a few days. Seeing it like this makes my chest feel tight for the rest of the loop.

We walk over the Westminster Bridge, and Alice points out Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, enchanted when I describe the fireworks we saw here on New Year's Eve.

Returning to the pub without incident, the plumber is just leaving. "Alright, luvs?" he asks as we come in.

Alice stops and looks at him quizzically for a moment, and then nearly stumbles when she sees what I think must be urinals, new toilets and wash basins against a wall. She doesn't look around for an explanation though. She goes to her pack and removes her little bag from her neck, putting away the phone and card. I give her the tiny Marks and Spencer's bag I have stored in my purse.

We lock up and walk to their hotel where Alice asks me if she should change her bra. I tell her to keep it on until she goes to bed, then wear a different one tomorrow. After pizza and gelato, Alice and Carlisle are fading fast, so we leave for Waterloo, where we go to bed, tired ourselves.

"Do you want to ask me now?" Edward inquires as we're getting undressed.

"About what?"

"Alice is on the spectrum, Bella. Do you understand what that means?"

"Oh... I think so. Is it autism?"

"We don't use that word, and she's had a lot of therapy, so she's pretty mainstream nowadays."

"She seems a little OCD, and her train of thought runs through several things at once."

"That's right," he says, climbing into bed. "...and sometimes she gets fixated on one thing, but she's cool. We don't treat her any differently than anyone else."

"I'm sorry about the bra thing, Edward, but she's got boobs."

Edward huffs and says, "He should have sorted that out by now, but I'm glad she had a woman go with her. Thank you," he says, kissing my forehead as I snuggle up to him.

"Alice told me about your mother, how she died."

I feel his whole body sink into the mattress and he replies, "I don't talk about it, Bella. Too painful."

"I'm so sorry."

"Yeah."

A long sigh tells me not to push further, and I hold him, only falling asleep once his breathing is steady and at peace.

* * *

Feeling clingy, I hang around the pub during Edward's last few days in London, helping where I can, rather than going out looking for a job. I don't want to waste precious time when I can tackle my employment again when he's gone.

The downstairs bathrooms are finished off, and I'm sorry the upstairs won't be done before he leaves.

Edward is tender with me, knowing I'm dreading his departure. He keeps assuring me that what he does is very safe, but I suspect I have a problem with claustrophobia I never knew existed. I still struggle with a feeling of tightness in my chest whenever I think about it.

When I question if it's difficult to breathe on the bottom, he hugs me and sits me down, attempting to explain in more detail how saturation works. I ask him why he can't talk to me on the phone, and reluctantly, he explains the deadly narcotic effect pressure has on nitrogen, and how they have to replace it with helium.

Naively, I find this amusing, telling him about the time we sucked in a balloon-full of helium in a high school lab, but he says that it affects his vocal cords so deeply that I won't be able to understand him. One of the divers apparently called his wife one night, and she hung up on him, thinking it was a prank call. When I realize he's serious, it's no longer funny, and now I understand.

Rosalie and Emmett arrive at the pub to meet Carlisle and Emmett goes over the schedule with Edward. I start to worry about Alice, stuck in the banging and drilling sounds that are going to fill this place, and I wonder about Tanya's offer to come down to Canterbury.

I call her, and she's amazed when I tell her Edward has a pub in London. She says they have heaps of room, and she'd love to meet his sister, talking about a tour to Dover, Canterbury Cathedral, and Leeds Castle. Then she mentions the castle grounds are crawling with ducks and geese, so she'll understand if we'd rather not. We have a good laugh about that. She's free next weekend, and Carlisle says it's a great idea as long as it's not inconvenient.

Rosalie wants to come as well, so it looks like we're in for a girly weekend. Then she calls me out on the street and asks, "Do we have to take Alice?"

I narrow my eyes at her and consider explaining Alice's problem with noise, but I really shouldn't need to.

"Alice is coming, Rose. It's up to you whether you join us or not." I'm starting to wish she would go home to the States because I've had just about enough of Rosalie Hale's selfish attitude.

* * *

The day Edward leaves is a scorching hot day, but he's determined to get as much done as he can before he goes. Carlisle is exhausted by eleven o'clock, only able to give instructions. By one, Alice is sweeping up the white dust that drives her crazy, and we're about to leave for their hotel so the boys can freshen up.

Then a delivery arrives. The bathtub comes in as a cruel reminder that it will be a month before we can use it. Edward glances at me before he insists the men take it all the way upstairs.

Sitting in a local pub, relaxing out of the heat and having a late farewell lunch with Rosalie and Emmett, a weather bulletin interrupts the constant Wimbledon coverage. It's the hottest day on record in the UK, nearly a hundred degrees, and the forecast in Scotland is for ferocious storms and hail. With my head full of rocking ships and waves crashing over decks, I squeeze Edward's hand and look in his eyes.

"It will be all over by the time I get up there," he says, putting his arm around me as I lean on his shoulder.

"What do they do if the ship moves around in a storm?" Emmett asks, taking a sip of his pint.

 _Here we go again, just what I need today._

"It's very hi-tech actually. Three massive computerized thrusters keep her stable so we don't have to worry about it."

"So you don't get dragged around on the bottom." _Oh, Em, please stop._

I can feel Edward sigh, but he's trying to be polite to his friend. Emmett only ever means well.

"No, the bell floats a fair way above the bottom."

"It floats? Isn't it full of water?"

I'm on my feet before I know it because I cannot handle this any longer.

"No, it's pressurized... Bella?"

"Bathroom." This is hard enough without the specifics, and I'm about to cry. Splashing my face with cool water is wonderfully refreshing, and I chant to myself, knowing that if the tears start now, they won't stop.

"You okay?" Rosalie comes in with a look of compassion on her face. "How are you going to do this when we're gone? Come back to the States with us."

Shaking my head, I can't believe what she's saying. "When are you going home?"

"I have a job offer, so maybe before Edward gets back."

"And Emmett?"

"He's coming to Seattle."

Without any jealousy, I say, "No," and open the door. This is where I belong, and it's not going to beat me.

They're all standing when we come out, and Edward has his bag at his feet. Carlisle pulls him into a hug, and my pulse rate quickens as I realize this is it. Edward looks at Alice and puts his hand up. She crosses to him and throws her arms around his waist, raising the most incredible look on his face.

"You give hugs?" he asks her, smiling and rocking her as she nods.

She leans back and answers, "I give hugs now."

Shaking hands with Emmett, Edward waves at Rose and then looks at me. He won't let me come to the station because he knows I'm going to fall apart, and now it's going to happen in front of everyone.

"Please?" I ask, and the look on his face is the answer I'm desperate for.

Closing his eyes, he says, "Okay, come on." He holds out his hand, and I take it, ignoring everyone else as we go. I know I'm putting off the inevitable, but the relief is astounding. We hardly exchange a word, but we're communicating every second, constantly touching, leaning and wrapping our arms around each other, tracing each other's hands, sharing a hundred tiny kisses. We said everything we had to say last night, promising the world to each other while we made love.

The announcement for the Aberdeen train's five o'clock departure is the start of a never ending kiss, and I hold on to him until the last moment, unable to believe he's really going. Keeping it together until it finally pulls out of the station, I stand there with tears streaming down my face long after it disappears from sight.

Peak hour commuters look at me sideways as I bawl my way home.

Edward calls the next morning as he's boarding the ship. _"You have to send me a text every day, and I'm diverting my phone to voicemail so you can leave a message any time. I want to hear your voice, Bella. I want to know that you're waiting for me."_

He sounds desperate.

"Of course I'll be waiting for you. I love you. Just come back safe to me."

" _You don't know how much I'm gonna miss you."_

"Oh, baby, you'll be back before you know it." After all the time he's spent trying to assure me, now I'm the one taking that role.

" _Call me 'baby' when you leave those messages, okay?"_

"Sure thing, sexy."

" _Oh, yeah, I like that too."_

He's got me laughing now at how sweet and funny he is. I love him.

"It's not forever, right Edward?"

" _Absolutely not. You and the pub are my dream."_

"I love you, baby." Wiping the tears from my eyes, I hope he can't tell I'm about to lose it.

" _I love you too. Talk to you in a month."_

Sobbing, I sit down at my laptop, and look at the screen through tears. I need something, anything, to take my mind off the pain in my chest. The blog is full of life, as usual, and I respond to all these people still bothering to keep in touch. I write an entry on the afternoon at the Covent Garden Piazza with the hair-raising performances, and ask for recommendations for what Klaus should do on a trip to Canterbury.

When I check my email, there's nothing new, no more rejections, and still nothing from Charlotte. My inbox has gone quiet on me.

 _What would I do if I was at home and failing to get interviews? I would probably ask one of my professors for advice on what I was doing wrong, but how would they know how it works over here? Would any of them be monitoring their college email during summer break?_

Then I realize I don't need them. I have email addresses for most of the senior editors in London, and the idea starts to grow on me - asking for advice, rather than a job. It's a non-threatening approach, and most people genuinely do want to help.

You just never know. As long as I try to sound confident, it could work.

Composing the email, I know I have to get this right to gain their attention. It has to be short and to the point if I actually expect them to read it and look at my attachments. Abandoning so many versions of a subject line, I eventually decide on "Advice, please." It's ambiguous and should pass their spam filters. The rest I need to cover in one paragraph because people often don't read the second.

"After weeks of trying to gain an interview at any of the publishing houses London, I'm not having any success. No one will give me the chance to prove I am committed to stay in this country and work out a lengthy contract. Could you please look over the attached and advise what I'm lacking?"

Is it enough? I don't thank anyone for their help in advance, I just sign off as Isabella Swan.

Targeting thirty of the offices where I felt a shred of interest, I send the same email to them individually, and each time I hit the send button, I'm full of self-doubt, but I've got nothing to lose.

The second part of this plan is finance, and it could be even harder to tackle, but I'm making the request anyway. Sending an email to Mom and Dad, I fill them in on the pub, Edward, Rosalie and Emmett, even Carlisle and Alice, and how great my new roommates, Angela and Ben, have turned out. I tell them that getting a job in this country is going to take more time than I thought and that I want them to sell my car so I can have the cash. It's going to result in some resistance because I asked them to refuse this request unless I was actually employed.

After mentioning that we're going to Canterbury, I sign off as I usually do, asking about what's going on over there. Then I close the laptop, and I decide to start looking for work again tomorrow. Maybe someone will return one of my emails and give me some answers. I'm going to the pub to see what they're up to.

Carlisle is up a ladder, connecting light fittings, and Emmett is sanding. Rosalie is on her phone, texting, and Alice is nowhere to be seen.

"Alice? Are you here?" I call out.

Carlisle nods towards the back yard as we hear her say, "Yes."

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

She sounds like she's retreating, and I suspect it's because of something insensitive Rosalie said, or because Emmett is around. She's not used to him yet, and his size may intimidate her. When she doesn't come in, I decide not to interfere and go over to Carlisle instead.

"You know I think you might be the best dad anyone ever had, coming all this way for your son like this."

He smiles as he climbs down the ladder. "I'm here to help Edward. I'd do anything for a son who gave up his future for us."

Glancing at Emmett, who is looking up now, I shake my head in question. "What do you mean?"

"He rescued us, Bella. He paid for Alice's therapy when I couldn't, and even though I know how he accomplished it now, I still think she is worth every cent."


	13. Chapter 13

_**Thanks so much to Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley - who groom this into a proper story.**_

 _ **The reviews are blowing me away at the moment. You all want Rosalie to leave the country!**_

* * *

 **Chapter 13**

Rose makes a sound like she's struggling for air, then rushes to the ladies bathroom. I hardly take any notice, replaying conversations Edward and I had about the debt and money issues that prevented him from going to college.

 _I don't want this life I'm in, but I don't have a choice._

 _It's eighty grand, and believe me, that's the tip of the iceberg._

 _Yeah, well, you do what you gotta do._

No wonder he wouldn't talk about it when he'd given up his future for his sister. Just like the gun without bullets, it didn't fit the tough guy persona he presented to the world.

The water stops running, and Rose goes to the front door, making a whimpering sound as she looks out.

"Rose?" Emmett follows after her when she stumbles out on the street.

"Is she unwell?" Carlisle asks, with a look of worry.

"I don't know." I trail after them, seeing Rose shake her head and struggle out of Emmett's arms. She takes off down the street, and he watches her before turning toward me. "Is she sick, Em?"

He shrugs and answers, "Nope. She says she just wants to get out of here for a while."

I smile at him, acknowledging how well he handles her. When she gets in one of her moods, it's best to just let her walk away and work it out of her system. Then she usually comes back as good as new. I wonder what she saw on her phone that set her off this time.

"What's Alice doing?" I ask Carlisle as casually as I can. He may not even realize what he's just revealed to us.

"I believe she was listening to music." He looks at his watch. "But she'll be out here very soon."

As he speaks, Alice comes in and walks up to him. "It's morning tea time."

"Yes, it is," he confirms, handing her a coin.

She studies it for a couple of seconds before showing it to him. "Look, Dad, John Lennon."

"Oh, that's a special one, very nice."

Surprised she would recognize him, I have to ask, "You know John Lennon?"

"Yes," she answers as if it should be obvious. "Plus, it's written here," she adds with a smile.

Carlisle follows with an explanation. "We played a lot of Beatles when Alice was a child, didn't we?"

When she nods, I grin at them, enjoying the musical bond that exists between parent and child. I can remember playing Mom and Dad's cassette tapes as a kid. Their favorites were Billy Joel and Bob Seger, but Mom definitely had a thing for Rod Stewart. I think she still does.

"I'm going now," Alice declares as she strides out the door.

"Do you want me to go with her?" I offer, feeling slightly nervous.

"No, she'll be fine, but thank you for asking," Carlisle replies. "I'll keep an eye on her from here."

I join him at the doorway as he watches Alice without any apparent anxiety.

"She _is_ worth it, Carlisle," I say, admiring the way he's letting her gain some independence.

He looks slightly defeated when he responds with a tiny nod. "Yes… but what my son did is entirely my fault. I let Edward down when I focused on one child over the other."

He runs his hand through his hair, just like Edward does. "I know he hasn't told you the details, but I want you to know. At first we thought Alice was in shock after she witnessed her mother being killed. Too young to communicate how she was coping, we watched her become withdrawn, delayed in her speech, missing important milestones.

"It took a whole year to diagnose her properly, and then Edward had to step up and take her to therapy or supervise people in our home. He never once complained about it.

"When the therapy ate up all of Esme's life insurance money, I couldn't afford to keep it going," he says with a tremor in his chin. "Edward… Edward offered to help out, and I allowed it." He closes his eyes for a moment, obviously reliving some painful memory. "…too caught up in my daughter's problems, never questioning how he was coming up with the money. I could have sold our home, but I let a seventeen-year-old boy talk me out of it." After letting out a breath, he adds, "Father of the Year."

I feel so sorry for him, pouring out to me like this, and I put my hand on his back to show my sympathy. "I wanted to get rid of this property so he could go to college, but this is what he has chosen. I don't know if it's the right decision."

The poor man needs some encouragement. "I think it _is_ the right decision, Carlisle, because I've seen the pride in his eyes when he looks around here. Edward often talked about having his own bar one day. This suits him better, and I know he can make it into a success."

"It's much more than that, Bella," he adds, looking directly at me. "His pride comes from having left that other life behind. You don't realize the impact you had on him when you inspired him to dream. He's really here because of his love for you."

Heaving in a breath, I'm about to burst into tears. "I love him too. I just wish he wasn't doing this diving job."

Carlisle puts his arm around my shoulders. "Oh, he'll be fine. He's done all the right training, and it's a lot money to pass up when you don't want to start with debt. You know some of those men earn 1500 pounds a day?"

I shake my head at those figures. "It took me six months to save ten thousand dollars, and Edward makes that in…"

"About six days." Carlisle finishes my sentence, having already converted it.

We laugh, and I wipe a tear from my cheek as we spy Alice coming out of the store holding a white box. Pulling myself together, I watch her press the button repeatedly until the lights change, then walk back to the pub as if she does this every day.

"One pound, sixty," she announces, dropping coins into Carlisle's hand. "They didn't make a mistake."

"You just make sure they don't, kiddo," Carlisle nudges her, amused and more relaxed.

Alice opens the box and walks toward Emmett, just as he's pulling his t-shirt up to wipe the sweat from his face. She startles at the view of his bare torso, dropping her eyes to the ground. After waiting a few seconds, she takes a couple of steps forward and offers him a cake.

"Awesome. Thank you, Alice." He greets her with a beaming smile, taking a bite into the creamy icing as she watches him, fascinated. I smirk, wondering if our little Alice is developing a crush.

Then she comes over and asks us to choose from the three left. She eats hers, and then moves around the room, tidying by lining things up compulsively. Carlisle shakes his head, silently advising me to ignore it.

The plumber arrives to continue his work upstairs, and Alice winces, knowing that more piercing sounds are imminent. I should get her out of here, but the tourists have flooded the city since Wimbledon started, and I'm not sure how she will handle the crowds.

After clearing an idea with Carlisle and deciding that what she is wearing will do, I ask her if she wants to have some fun. I tell Emmett I want to talk to him as soon as I get back, and we take off for the nearby Somerset House fountains, where a grid of soft water jets awaits us.

Alice is cautious at first, getting her feet wet in the puddles around the edge as kids scream and run through the fountains. She's not sure until she tentatively slides her foot into a stream of water, realizes it's not freezing, and smiles at me. Then she starts to maneuver her way between the waist-high jets without getting splashed.

The fountains rise high unexpectedly, and water sprays all over her. I'm afraid when she opens her mouth in shock, and starts flapping her hands, but just as I'm about to go to her, she laughs and twirls with her eyes closed. I capture it on video for Carlisle and Edward because it's a delight to see her so joyous and carefree, like the child in her has emerged.

Carlisle arrives with a towel, grinning and taking his own photos, as she attempts to anticipate which jets will rise and which will stay low, unaware that he's there. It's magic watching his expressions, and I turn my camera on him as well. Wistfully, he says that he hopes her mother can see her from heaven, and I ask him to tell me about her. He looks at me with soft eyes and a gentle smile.

"My beautiful Esmeralda? We were fated to meet that day, that very minute in fact. I was on vacation, held up in Milan, with hours to spare until the next train for Rome. My friends wanted to sit in the bar, but I thought it was a waste of time, so I wandered off to see something of the city.

"Esme was sitting in a café, writing a letter. I noticed her caramel-colored hair first, but I couldn't move when I saw her face and realized she was crying. It distressed me seeing such a pretty girl in pain.

"I just walked right up to her, showing her with my arm that I wanted to sit down. I swear I saw 'yes' in her chocolate eyes, but she looked around the busy café before she nodded. Speaking no Italian, I pulled out my phrase book and started looking up something to say to her. When I glanced up, she was smirking as she said, 'I'm American.' Honestly, it felt like fate.

"When I asked her why she was crying, she told me she was writing letters of goodbye to her friends back home. Her Italian parents had just announced they weren't going back to the States because her grandmother was ill, and her mother would not leave her."

"How old was Esme?" I ask, needing her age to imagine this properly.

"Eighteen," he answers, with a look as if he is remembering her as a girl. "And I was nineteen."

"Oh, wow." It sounds so romantic. "So what happened?"

"We stayed in the café for ages until her mother arrived, laden with parcels, and gave me the evil eye. I carried the parcels all the way to the train where Esme handed me a slip of paper. It had her phone number and address on it. I asked her when she had a chance to write it, and she said, 'Oh, about an hour ago.'

"I didn't go to Rome. By the end of the week, I was having meals at their home in Stresa and helping her father repair a fence at the side of the property. Esme and I weren't allowed to have time alone together, but we clicked, and I never looked at anyone else again. I courted her with letters, and they tolerated my occasional visits because she stopped giving them grief about living there. Each time I came back, it was better than the last.

"Where they live is amazing, close to the edge of the lake, so it wasn't hard to fall in love with the place as well as the girl."

Sighing, I say, "A love letter in the mail," half in a dream.

"We didn't have email back then," Carlisle adds with a chuckle.

"So then what? Edward said he was born in England."

"Since she'd grown up in Chicago, Esme became increasingly dissatisfied with her life in the small town, working in a shop, selling handbags and shoes to tourists. I was there during the fireworks when she started arguing that it wasn't fair they allowed her brother to stay in America and go to college while she was relegated to working as a sales assistant. Of course, I was on her parents' side, knowing I'd lose her forever if she went back. While this long distance relationship wasn't ideal, I had it down pat, three hours door to door, with my own bedroom in their home."

"Esme stormed out of the house, leaving the rest of us looking at each other until they told me to follow and talk some sense into her. It was the first time we were ever officially alone."

We hear Alice call out, and Carlisle waves to her, but she returns to skipping through the water, and I ask him to go on.

"I found her waiting for me in a park by the lake. As soon as I arrived, she kissed me, and by the time she stopped kissing me, I had come up with the perfect solution. She had to marry me and move to London where she could attend college and still be close enough to come back and visit her parents. You know what she said?"

"I gather it was yes," I answer with a laugh, totally immersed in the story.

"She said, 'I thought you'd never ask.' God, she was only nineteen, and they agreed to it. They knew how much I was in love with her."

My cheeks are now sore from grinning so much.

"We struck a deal - five years in the UK so I could finish my qualifications, and then we'd move to the States. We were married in the church in Stresa, and walked through the streets with the whole town following us. We honeymooned in Venice and moved into a tiny flat at Wembley, just before the start of the semester.

"Esme finished her interior design course three years later, worked for a year, and then fell pregnant with Edward. There was no way either family would let us leave without getting to know their grandson, so we stayed a little longer than planned."

"So, why the big gap? You didn't plan to have any more kids?"

"It was pretty tough at first while Esme established her career, and I was slowly increasing my business while trying to build a house for us. We just couldn't see how we could afford it and come back to visit our families every couple of years. When things became easier financially, Esme had a couple of miscarriages before Alice was born, and we decided that two was enough. Things were kind of perfect at that point in our lives."

The happiness that filled his face while he told the story is starting to fade, and I look at Alice who is running now.

"That's a great story, Carlisle. I love it."

"I wonder what your story will be, Bella." I can only raise my eyebrows, thinking that if I ended up with Edward, the beginning of the story would have to go through some significant editing, and I snort at the thought. "Even if everything's not perfect, it's still your story."

"True," I reply, "But I have no idea where I'll even be in a year the way I'm going."

"Oh, these things have a way of working themselves out."

I frown at him, trying to read what he's saying, when he stands and looks at his daughter. "She'll be a prune by now. Come and dry off, Alice!"

Alice comes right over, as if she's had enough anyway, and I walk with them as far as their hotel, so she can shower and change. We finalize arrangements for the train trip to Canterbury, and I say I probably won't see them tomorrow since I'm going job hunting. He thanks me for helping with Alice, and I tell him it's nothing, asking her if she's looking forward to our weekend away.

The grin she gives me is so much like Edward's that I hug her, forgetting that she's soaked, and we're both laughing as they leave.

Alice is so worth whatever it took. From what I've seen of her, she's going to be an incredible young woman, positive and happy. Her quirkiness makes her even more endearing.

I quicken my pace on the way back to the pub, ready to find out what Emmett knew about Edward's debt and if he had a good reason for not telling me.

Rose is now back there, still looking upset about something.

"What happened with you?" I ask, only giving her a cursory glance as I slow down briefly.

"Nothing," she answers too quickly, handing me bullshit. I'm not asking again. I want to talk to her boyfriend.

"Did you know?" I ask Emmett. "You lived with him for ages. You must have known."

"No, he was secretive," he answers, with a defensive look. "You knew that."

"So, you didn't talk about why he needed the money?"

"He never said a thing about it to me, Bella. He would have told _you_ before he told anyone else."

"All this time, he was paying for Alice." I cover my face with my hands, just thinking about it. "Oh, God."

"Please stop," Rose cries out, as if she's in pain. It's like she can't bear to hear anything good said about Edward, and we both glare at her.

"Don't, Rose. Don't you even think about saying one more bad word about him," I snarl at her.

"Rosie, what is it?" Emmett asks, just as I notice the fear on her face.

She looks like she's going to speak and then drops her head without responding. I really hope she's feeling bad over her attitude towards Edward now.

"I… I…" she stammers out. "I have to tell you both something."

"Jesus, Rose." She's scaring me, and her expression makes me think our friendship might not survive this.

"I'm the reason he had to leave the island. It's my fault the police came."

I look at Emmett, dumbfounded, but he's fixed on her, waiting patiently for her to elaborate.

"No, Rose." I try to put her out of her misery quickly, but she holds her hand up, determined to speak. Even though she's obviously wrong, it's compelling to find out why she thinks she was involved.

"I swear I never meant for it to happen. I didn't think about what I was doing. They asked me if they could score some dope, and I pointed at Edward. I thought they were guests at the time, but I never saw them in the restaurant. They had to be undercover cops."

"Who are _they_?" Emmett queries her, glancing at me.

"Two men," she answers, starting to pace with her hands in her hair.

Emmett looks as confused as I feel. "Why do you think they were cops?"

"They acted weird, watching Edward the whole time we were there, but they never approached him."

Now Emmett is shaking his head, and he doesn't look happy. "Thank God Edward got that tip off. Did it ever occur to you that a slip up like that could implicate me as his boss? It was happening in my bar."

"I'm sorry. I told you didn't think about what I was doing."

"You never do, Rose. You open your mouth before you think. You should have just said, 'I don't know.'"

She tries to respond, then realizes that what he says is true, and chooses to nod instead.

"Maybe they just lost their nerve," I intervene before this turns into an argument. Rose should not have done what she did, but she didn't cause the raid. "People chicken out when faced with having to break the law."

Emmett interrupts me, ready to have this out with her now. "You could have warned him, Rose, or at least told me about it."

"It wasn't until two days later, when the place was crawling with cops looking for drugs, that I suspected it was my fault. You have no idea how terrified I was, waiting for the police to interview me, but they never did. Look, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she pleads, screwing up her eyes.

Emmett snorts as if he doesn't buy the apology. This kind of thing is a symptom of the way she only thinks of herself, but she's mistakenly carried this around for too long, and I can't let this go on anymore.

"Listen to me, Rose. The police didn't raid the island because of anything you did."

She stops pacing and looks at me. "How do you know that?" she asks quietly, as if I'm only trying to appease her, and in that moment, I really feel for her.

Sighing, I think about what I can and should say. "Something happened when we were on the mainland the day before. We ran into a man who said Edward owed him money, and it kinda got ugly. When the call came the next morning, Edward knew it was that man who set him up, that he'd paid someone off to trap him. If they found drugs on the island, they would want to know where they came from."

"Why didn't you tell us this?" Rose asks with a deep frown.

At the time, I was in shock, miserable and terrified for Edward. "I didn't want to involve anyone else, and I was scared too. If I didn't speak of it, then it never happened."

Her eyes open widely as she nods in agreement. "That's exactly how I felt."

"Do you know who called him?" Emmett asks me.

"No, and I've never asked, but someone was looking out for Edward. Maybe it was his supplier."

Rose lets out a long shaky breath. "I wanted Edward to stay gone. I thought if we never heard from him again, then I wouldn't have to face this. Ever since he called you, it's been killing me, wondering if he found out what I did to him..." Struggling to continue, she adds, "...and to you, Bella."

Emmett huffs out a strangled sound, picks up the scraps of wood off the floor, and walks out the back door. The hollow sound of wood hitting the metal of the dumpster, one by one, a little harder than necessary, is Emmett blowing off steam. I put my arm around Rose's shoulder, and she flinches. She's so down on herself right now that she can't believe I could have any sympathy for her, but I look into her face, telling her to forget about it, that it wasn't her fault, and a tear trickles down her cheek.

"Edward wasn't a bad person, not that I ever saw." Finally, she admits the truth we've always known.

We look into space for a while, and I feel heavy, drained, like this day has been so intense that I can't take any more, so I stand and say, "I'm going home. I'll see you Saturday morning at the station."

At the back door, Emmett is leaning on the dumpster, his arms outstretched. "I'm off," I say quietly. "See you, Emmett."

He looks up with eyes empty of expression. "Yeah, see you later, Bella."

"Oh, Bella, I'm so sorry." I squeeze Rosalie's hand, and she follows me to the front door. "I'm really looking forward to seeing Tanya again," she offers, more like the old Rose, my best friend who came on this journey with me, the girl who went missing somewhere along the way.

"Just be nice to Alice." I give her a look that says I won't stand for anything less.

"Of course I will," she replies, nodding quickly, and then stands in the doorway, looking lost and alone as she waves me goodbye.


	14. Chapter 14

_**Something happened this week that made me very angry. After I calmed down, I had a fresh perspective and a stronger appreciation for the good things in my life. I am so lucky to have Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley as friends, and the part they play in this story is just the best bonus. Tha** **nk you very much .**_

 _ **The reviews this week - all I can say is that some of you have such compassionate hearts when it comes to Rose and that makes me happy.**_

* * *

 **Chapter 14**

As soon as I'm on the train, I leave Edward a soppy voicemail, calling him "baby" and asking if we can text. He sends a response right away, saying he's just leaving to start his shift and that he'll be back in about eight hours. I tell him I miss him, and there will be an email waiting when he returns. He texts back, "I love you," and I send him two hearts.

Checking for emails when I arrive home, I see a reply with the "Advice please" subject from a magazine I called at only a few days ago. With a shaking hand, I open it, but the response is disappointing. The man states that what I've attached is perfectly acceptable, but that they are not employing foreigners at this current time. His advice is to go home and apply to an American company who has an office in London. He wishes me well, leaving a link to the UK government website, as if he thinks I haven't been there. I must have looked over the complicated rules for working visas fifty times before I even planned this trip.

I guess I have to take all the advice I'm given, since I asked for it, and I could try this if all else fails, but going home and leaving Edward would kill me.

After doing laundry and getting my things ready for tomorrow, I call Tanya to confirm we'll be on the train arriving at ten o'clock on Saturday, and she says she's got it all planned. Then I sit down to write. It takes me a while to work out how to tell Edward what I know, and I decide to work up to it.

"We went to Somerset House for the fountains today, and Alice had the time of her life, getting drenched in her clothes. You'll see from the photos and videos how much she enjoyed it.

"Your Dad met us there, and he told me the story of how he met your mom. It was so romantic! I still can't believe her strict parents let them marry so young, but he's convinced they were meant for each other, and they were obviously very much in love."

Looking over what I've written, I say to myself, "Here goes," and place my fingers back on the keys.

"You know how much I love you, baby? Well, after a day like today, I love you more. In case he hasn't told you, your father is very proud of everything you did for your sister and he totally blames himself. He loves you so much, and I think he likes me too, probably because he knows how I feel about you."

Reading it over, I think I've opened the conversation in such a way that Edward can choose how he wants to respond. As far as I'm concerned, it's over, past tense, and I smile at how much I'm in awe of him. If I wasn't smitten before, then I am now. He hasn't changed at all; he's just chosen a better future, one I want to share with him.

There's no point in mentioning what Rosalie did. It's up to her to make peace with Edward if she wants to, but I am looking forward to a world where I no longer have to defend him.

"More tomorrow, my love. Please let me know you are okay."

Attaching the images and videos, I send the email and lie on my bed, realizing how big it now seems. When Angela comes home, I'm still staring at the ceiling, replaying all the things I found out today.

"Cuppa tea?" she asks, and I get up in a bit of a daze. When I show her the photos I took today, Angela comments on how pretty Alice is, saying it looks like we had a spectacular time. I tell her I'll take her to the pub and introduce her soon.

After a quiet dinner together, we catch the highlights of Wimbledon on TV while I post on the blog about a summer's day at the fountains and read the suggestions on what Klaus should do over a few days' vacation in Canterbury. I respond to as many as I can, asking more questions and feeling a little better knowing my readers still care. Then I go to bed early, hoping the visit with Tanya is going to lift my spirits.

The sound of an incoming text wakes me in the middle of the night. It's Edward.

" _I know you're asleep, but I wanted thank you for the message and the amazing images. More tomorrow, my love. Yes, I am okay. I have to crash now, but I leave you with this. It's Van Morrison from REMINDS ME, and it's how I feel tonight, like I've felt many other nights, listening to this track and thinking of you._

 _I miss you so much, I can't stand it  
Seems like my heart is breaking in two  
My head says no, but my soul demands it  
Everything I do reminds me of you"_

The words blur until I wipe away tears, and I consider replying, but he's tired, and I would prefer to text him tomorrow when we can interact. He said it will be twelve hours before he has to dive again.

Waking early, I check the blog, surprised by the number of responses. There's a common theme coming through. Most talk about day tours from London, but they all rave about Canterbury Cathedral, so we are definitely going there. The next thing I do is log on to internet banking because I'm worried about how much money I have left.

My heart jumps when I see a recent deposit from my parents. It's 7:30 here, which means it's 11:30 last night in Seattle, too late for a phone call home, since Dad will assume it's an emergency and freak out like he's done in the past.

Sending them an email, I thank them for being the best parents in the world, promising to pay them back as soon as I'm employed.

Going out there again, I'm full of confidence that I will get an interview today, but the reality is the same as always.

When a message arrives from Edward, I stop where I am and lean against a light pole, eager to read his reply. The text is exuberant.

" _We've had zero problems so far. My physical went great, and we spent the voyage out to the rig checking our gear and making adjustments. I don't feel like the newbie so much this time, and the crew is a mixture of nationalities. I even drew the long straw and got a bottom bunk :D That last dive was amazing. I had to replace a pipe on one of the pumps and then wait while they tested everything was working. We had a whale that hung around for ages, curious about the lights and what we were doing. I'm still buzzing from the experience. It was massive but so gentle. I wish we could communicate with them because you can see the intelligence in their eyes, and the sounds they make are incredible."_

Wow. Responding, I say, "You sound happy and the way you describe the whale makes it sound amazing. In all honesty, I admire the way you can enjoy it without being scared. Thank you so much for the lyrics last night. I want to say that my heart isn't broken anymore, but I miss you."

Very soon, another message pops up.

" _I understand what you mean. My heart isn't really breaking either, not like it was before. It is aching, but it's full, and I'm proud to tell these guys I have the most beautiful girl waiting for me when I come home."_

I'm grinning at my phone when another one arrives.

" _You said I sound happy, but happy doesn't really cut it. That's not the right word. I can't say this is terrible, because it isn't, but I won't be happy until it's over, and I'm back with you permanently. I love you."_

It's hard for me not to scrutinize particular words that people use, even in casual conversation. Why did he add the word "permanently"? Is he thinking about coming back to London for the month of August, or is he referring to the time when he's running his pub and no longer diving? Could he be thinking about a permanent relationship between us? I hope so. He's so sweet, so open now, and I read over his texts, enjoying them again. I realize it's been a while since I responded when another one appears.

" _Edward Cullen was very immature, and he's gone for good. I told you I'm not ashamed of the things he did, and Dad shouldn't blame himself because it was never his fault. Edward Masen is trying to be a grown up, and when I meet your family, I want to hold my head high, so let's forget that stuff ever happened. I hope I'm making sense."_

I gasp at the mention of his meeting my family. In a few short sentences, he's just concisely explained how he wants to deal with his past, and I think he's right about forgetting it. He already is a grown up.

"You make perfect sense and I have to tell you, I'm really impressed with Edward Masen. He's the kind of man I want."

" _That's good, because you, Miss Swan, are the woman I want."_

Feeling flattered, and smirking as I re-read his last text, a woman jostles me, and I have to retreat from the passengers pouring out of a red bus. All of a sudden, I'm back in the real world, on a busy London street, finding a safer place to stand.

" _Did you get an interview this morning?"_ he asks, cutting to my most important issue.

"Nope. Nobody wants me."

" _Stop that, Bella. I don't want you to be negative. Please keep going."_

"Yes, sir." Even his positive attitude can't help with my personal feelings of inadequacy. I won't tell him about the emails I've sent, not until there's a glimmer of success.

" _One way or another, you are going to stay with me, Bella. I WILL make it happen."_

I look at the words, wondering how he thinks he's going to achieve that, but with Edward, anything's possible, and he does make me feel less alone.

"You know we're going to see Tanya in the morning?"

" _Yeah, tell her I said hi, and I owe her a drink at Masen's. Haha!"_

I'm grinning again, enjoying his enthusiasm. "Will do, baby."

" _Hey, I have to talk to you later :("_

Looking around me and sighing, I guess we _can_ do this, sharing each other's world via texts. I just have to start sounding more positive. He has enough to deal with, trying to survive in an alien environment, without having to worry about me.

But I love that he does.

This weekend I am going to try to rejuvenate. For all I know, it could be my negativity that's stopping me from getting an interview.

Heading towards the nearest Tube station, the choice is either Covent Garden or Piccadilly, and it hasn't escaped my notice how ideal this would be in a perfect world.

That night I set up my emails to come through on my phone. The laptop can stay at home for one weekend, and this way I'm covered if Tanya doesn't have a decent internet connection.

There's a poem waiting the next morning from Edward, and I read it on my phone before I get up.

" _And if I built this fortress around your heart  
Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire  
Then let me build a bridge  
For I cannot fill the chasm  
And let me set the battlements on fire"_

I'm not familiar with this and there's no writer, but it's much deeper than the simplicity of yesterday's Van Morrison lyrics. Analyzing it as a poem, I think he is asserting his promise to fight to keep me with him. The word "chasm" leaps out at me. At first, I see it representing our current separation, or the long one we endured, and then I think about the way we used to talk on the island, when we knew we had no future. I was the good girl who wanted travel, love and family. He was stuck in the life of a criminal. A major chasm existed between us then, and he's spent all this time building a bridge to cross it.

The visual that fills my head is of him as a knight in chain mail, holding a metal helmet. He's offering me his hand, asking me to trust him and cross a bridge that's already in flames, for it's no longer necessary when I'm on the other side with him. It seems right for him to burn everything like the past when he's found the way to escape it, and I don't hesitate to follow him.

The way he's finding poetry to communicate like this, I'm sure he thinks that because I'm a writer, it will mean more to me.

He's right. It does.

I decide to let him know that I do appreciate it. "Thank you for a most wonderful poem. The ideas and images it evokes will fascinate me until you return, my love." I almost call him my knight.

There's no response, so I expect he's in the murky depths of the North Sea, working for his dream and our future. I love him.

We meet at Charing Cross Station for the train to Canterbury, and Rose is already there when I arrive. Alice beams at me when she and Carlisle turn up, but he's reserved, trying to hide his nerves, I suspect. I tell him I will take very good care of her, and he nods, saying he knows she will be fine. Alice urges him to leave right away, and I look back a couple of times and smile, seeing him waiting as we board our railcar. He might stand there long after the train pulls out of the platform, like I did when Edward left.

The green countryside blurs close to the train as we speed into the garden of England. The distance is dotted with farms and villages, suddenly obscured by the Eurostar roaring past us on its way to the Channel. I bring Klaus out, holding him near the window, pointing things out to him as I always do.

"Why do you do that?" Alice asks, closely watching me.

"It's just a bit of fun. I write my blog from his perspective."

"He's a toy," she states as if I haven't realized it.

"I don't think he knows that," I answer, trying to humor her. "Let's not spoil it for him."

Alice looks at him then at me, and I'm sure she doesn't get it, so I throw him over to her, and she catches him, smiling when she discovers how unique this little Swiss mountain goat is. As I look at her, I understand everything Edward has told me about his sister, how much she's improved since she was very young, and I should treat her no differently from anyone else.

We all have our quirks anyway. I thought Rosalie was suffering from a terminal case of bitch disease until a couple of days ago, and today she's calm, watching Alice and being quiet for a change.

"Bella!" We hear Tanya scream as she waves her arms when we get off the train. Amid hugs and introductions, she ushers us to her car, where we dump our bags in the trunk and drive to the Park and Ride parking lot for the bus to the city. Tanya says it's not worth fighting the traffic when they'll take us all into town and back for a couple of quid, and she wants to visit the Cathedral early.

From the bus, the outskirts of town look modest and industrial until Rose points out the remains of a huge Roman building standing starkly on its own. Then the road follows the edge of a long medieval wall. After only a few minutes, the bus driver announces we have arrived, and Tanya guides us into the city.

Even though it's old with its cobblestone streets and Tudor style buildings, Canterbury has a modern feel, full of young people and masses of tourists. Vodafone doesn't look out of place here among the hodgepodge of quaint tea houses, edgy urban restaurants, and magical-looking bookstores where wizards and witches wouldn't look out of place.

I hope we come back here because I'm tempted to stop, but the square in front of us captures my attention with its monument bearing sculptures of knights. Further up the high street, a castle with two rounded towers forms an arch over the road. The bookstore forgotten, I'm transported into to the poem Edward sent.

"I love this place!" I call to Tanya who is ahead of me with Alice and Rose, beckoning me to catch up. When I reach them and turn into an alleyway, the cathedral is looming in front of us, and I cannot believe that nothing I read on the internet prepared me for its size or the detail. We saw many churches in our travels, but this is impressive.

Although we protest, Tanya insists on paying for our entry, winking and saying she's just sold a painting, handing each of us a small guide book.

We all oblige by turning our phones down when we're entering the oldest cathedral in England, established in 597 by the Romans. King Henry II had the catholic Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Becket, slaughtered by his knights here after he swore allegiance to the Pope, an act that initiated an influx of a thousand pilgrims. T.S. Elliot wrote a play about it. The local people battled and succeeded in protecting the cathedral from the bombing of World War II.

Inside, it's so much cooler, and my eyes follow the arches that seem to soar to the heavens. While its interior is grand, the glory is in the stonework. They've used gold sparingly here, giving the building a more humble feel than many of the churches we've seen in Europe.

Realizing we're only standing in a vast entry to the church, we quietly move around the chapels, and I keep Alice in my sights as she touches every surface she passes. Reading all the plaques aloud softly, I'm pleased to see she displays a good sense of reverence. I follow her, and we stand together, appreciating the elaborate work in the leadlight windows, showing kings and knights who gave their lives for their country.

"We don't go to church," she says quietly.

"Everyone is welcome here," Tanya offers as she joins us. "Aren't the windows incredible?"

The whole thing is incredible. We look around for Rose and find her on her own, seated in quiet contemplation. After a very solemn hour in this amazing place, I tap her shoulder, and we slowly wander out into the sunlight in a sort of haze. I'm overwhelmed by the history I've seen, and Rose says simply, "Wow." We all nod, but no one seems in a hurry to talk about the experience.

"Back to town," Tanya announces. "We should take advantage of the weather while we can." As we follow, I'm dawdling as I check my phone and find a text from Edward, two emails, and a missed call from Charlotte!

"Hang on!" I call out, trying to hurry and not drop the phone. "Please can we stop for just a minute?"

Tanya places her arm around my shoulder, and says, "We're already here, Bella. I'll just get our tickets."

"Wait, why are you paying for everything?" Rose tries to argue, following her, and Tanya says she can pay next time. I'm in a fluster, connecting to Charlotte's voicemail and apologizing for missing her call, while Alice stands still, trying to stay out of the chaos.

The first email is vague, asking me to apply on their website for any advertised positions, stating quite abruptly that they give preference to British citizens at their newspaper.

The second one is a mystery. The response says, "Can we expect any more surprises from you, Miss Swan? Please contact Charlotte West at your earliest convenience." It's from Maggie Stapleton, Senior Editor - Travel, Vertigo Magazine.

I have no idea what this means, and I look up at Tanya and Rose, who are waiting for me to go somewhere with them.

"What are we doing?"

"Down there," Tanya points to a rowboat on the canal below us.

"What, now?" I ask, met by a nod from both of them. "Just give me ten minutes?" The eye rolls and sighs are pathetic when this could be my future happening right here. "This is a potential job." I sigh right back at them and then ask, "Can you swim, Alice?"

Alice is leaning against the railing of the bridge we're standing on and replies, "Yes."

Tanya calls down from the bridge to the boat. "We'll get the next one, sorry."

A man in a blue polo shirt gives her the thumbs up and sits down, straightening the boat and introducing himself to his passengers, just as my phone goes off.

Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I answer, "Hi, Charlotte. It's really great to hear from you."

 _Am I sounding too eager? Oh, God, don't blow this, Bella, whatever this is._

" _You've been causing quite a stir for us, Bella."_

"I'm sorry?"

" _Did you have to run for the phone?"_

"Who is Charlotte?" Tanya asks, and I put my finger up to my lips.

"No… I… Sorry. There's just a lot going on here at the moment."

" _Where are you?"_

I look down at the river, and the humor of the situation strikes me. "I'm in Canterbury, about to go on a rowboat it seems."

I hear the most wonderful belly laugh on the other end of the phone. _"It seems?"_

"Yes, one of my good friends is our tour guide. She's setting a cracking pace."

" _Righto. Well, do you realize you sent an email to our Editor-in-Chief? He's in France on leave at the moment, wanting us to explain why we haven't signed you for the magazine yet."_

Gasping, I'm not sure if I should be jumping for joy or hanging my head in shame.

" _My boss, Maggie Stapleton, would like you to come in and explain yourself. She's back from leave herself next week, so do you think you can make it…"_ There's a pause like she's looking something up. _"...Tuesday at ten?"_

"Yes, absolutely. I will be there." _Explain myself? What have I done?_ "Can I ask, Charlotte, am I in trouble?"

" _No, you're not in trouble. Just be on time, and enjoy your weekend, Bella. See you Tuesday."_

There's still a hint of mirth in her voice, so I don't feel so bad when I thank her and hang up.

"What happened?" Rose asks, eyes sparkling in anticipation.

Bewildered, I answer, "I'm not really sure. I think I may have a job. Definitely a second interview."

Rose lifts my hand to high five me as I'm shaking my head.

"Enjoy the river, did you?" Tanya asks me sarcastically, as a man helps me off the boat.

"Yes, it was lovely. Relaxing." _I don't know what she means; I feel much calmer now._

"You spent the entire time texting. Was that Edward?"

 _Did I? Not the entire time. I looked at the water, saw the flowers, the reeds, a restaurant, I think._

"I bet you can't quote one thing that Captain Matt said."

"Uh…" True. I wasn't listening at all. I texted every word from the conversation with Charlotte, and Edward thinks they said I've got the job too. The explosive row of hashtags, ampersands and exclamation marks matched my reaction when I typed the most important part.

"She said that they haven't signed me for the magazine. Yet. Apparently they should have signed me by now."

" _I'm sure you're in! Why would they bother otherwise?"_

I told Edward that there were a few "why's" that would eat away at me until Tuesday, and he said to forget about it until then.

" _She told you to enjoy your weekend, so enjoy it :D :D :D"_


	15. Chapter 15

_**This chapter is dedicated to an amazing young woman who is struggling under the weight of what life is throwing at her right now. I wish you could feel my hugs in person, girl. Instead I'm going to flood you with the positive energy I'm sending your way.**_

 _ **To Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley, you three are the best. THE BEST!**_

 _ **Another week of incredible reviews and feedback. Thank you all so much!**_

* * *

 **Chapter 1** **5**

Fish and chips on the beach at Dover is the perfect end to our day. A breeze is coming off the ocean, teasing stray clouds from a big bank slowly rolling in. They cast shadows that dance on the ancient castle that overlooks the town. We walked up there this afternoon, atop the massive limestone cliffs, imagining we could see France on the horizon.

The sky is busy with seagulls, hovering above us and making a racket, spreading the word there's food down below.

"Don't give them anymore!" Tanya sings out to Alice, who is throwing her chips one by one into the air, delighted by the skill of the swooping birds. They're huge, bigger than the seagulls back home, and much more aggressive.

"She's right, Alice. Be careful!" Too late to heed the warning, Alice leaves her chips unwrapped just enough for the birds to seize an opportunity, and she screams when they overwhelm her. We're all on our feet, but Tanya gets to her first, scaring them off and snatching the paper wrapping, already picked clean.

Alice flaps her hands while yelling, "Get it off me!" and we realize one of the birds has left a message in her hair. "Get this stuff off me!" she cries as we try our best to clean it up with our napkins. In tears, she says, "I want to go home and wash my hair."

We can't seem to settle her by telling her it's gone, and Tanya looks at me as if it's her fault for bringing us here.

"Bloody birds," she says in frustration. "Let's go."

Rose gets in the back seat, surprising me when I hear her quietly telling Alice she would want to wash her hair as well. I don't know if this week's revelation has made her examine her behavior, but she has been more congenial all day and certainly nicer to Alice.

It starts to rain as soon as we're on the road to Canterbury. Tanya asks me about my job hunting, amazed it's taking so long. "I don't remember it being difficult to get a job in the States. I just applied on the resort's website, and they accepted me. Then I got a visa and left for America."

"I think this whole experience would have been different if I had started looking from the States. I really should have planned this better."

Tanya pats my knee, offering, "I know you are going to get this job."

 _Tuesday really can't come fast enough._

"We're here!" she announces as she pulls into a driveway next to a big "for sale" sign with a "sold" banner across it. It's a rambling old place, and I can see why she said they had plenty of room. It's more like a hotel than a home.

"They're selling it?" I ask, wondering where she's moving next.

"Yeah, it was a bed and breakfast until Dad got sick. They haven't had guests here for a while, because I was away, and Jazz is still at school and… well, Mum can't manage it without Dad. They've moved to Whitstable, north of here, on the coast."

"Is your father okay?"

She answers with a shrug of her shoulders. "He had a heart attack."

It makes me feel selfish when my own parents are getting older, with their only child living halfway across the world.

We take our bags inside, finding three teenage boys on the couch, battling on Playstation, and empty bottles of beer on the coffee table.

"You're drinking?" Tanya asks them harshly, more like a mother than a sister.

"Pre's," one of the boys answers without turning.

"For what? Where are you going?"

The same boy answers, "Party at Tom's. End of school thing."

"You've still got another week, Jazz."

"Only douches go the last week. We're not doing anything important."

"You _are_ going, Jasper, or I'll take you to Mum and Dad's."

His shoulders sag, and he pauses the game, handing the controller to his friend before standing and turning toward us. He's grown up a lot since the photos she showed me last year. Already tall, and fair like Tanya, his hair is swept forward, hanging in his eyes, and his peaches and cream skin is free of pimples. He looks me over, then he does the same to Rose, before staring at Alice. He smirks, and asks, "Who is this?"

The other two on the couch turn, facing us now, eyeing us the same way he did.

Alice looks at me nervously and asks, "Can I please fix my hair now?"

"Fix what?" Jasper asks, frowning until Alice meets his eyes, and one side of his mouth turns up. "Your hair is on fleek."

"Seagull got her, Jazz," Tanya explains. "We were down at Dover."

"Ah… well, I'll take her then. Where do you want her?"

"The twin on the right."

I look to Tanya for assurance before I let my charge out of my sight, only because I know I can trust her. "Go with him, Alice."

Jasper carries her bag up the stairs, and I hear him ask, "You need shampoo? The bathroom is right here, bae."

Watching Alice shake her head as they disappear from view, I realize I'm leaning over to see them for as long as I can, and Tanya has caught me.

"He's okay, Bella. He's a good boy." The other two on the couch snicker at her comment, and Tanya narrows her eyes at them. "You know something I don't?"

They look at each other and then call to him, "We're off, bruh. See you at Tom's!"

"Wait!" he yells, bounding down the stairs and following them out.

"He's too good for the likes of those two," Tanya comments, more to herself than to us, as she turns off the television.

"How old is he now?" Rose asks.

"Sixteen, and he thinks he knows everything."

"Have you forgotten what it was like?" Rose's smug expression turns into a chuckle.

Tanya rolls her eyes. "It's just that with Mum and Dad gone, it's all coming out. He doesn't want to go to uni. He wants to leave school a year early and become a chef, thinking he's going to be the next Jamie Oliver."

"What's wrong with that?" I ask. "Can he cook?"

With a sigh, she nods. "Yes, he can. We all can. Growing up in a place like this, we had to muck in and do our share, but Bella, he's serious. Over the last few weeks he's been approaching people around town, asking questions about apprenticeships. He's left his details on the government website."

"He sounds very proactive to me. I think he's lucky he knows what he wants to do. Maybe you should give him a chance to try it," I offer, remembering friends who struggled through college. "After all, we're always going to need chefs. It's not exactly a dying trade."

"I know, but he wants to go to London now, thinks he's moving in with me."

"Are you coming to London?" I ask, wanting so much for the answer to be yes.

"Yeah, now I've started selling paintings, I'm ready. This last one sold for, wait for it, a thousand pounds!"

Glancing at Rose, I see her eyes, bulging like mine. "Oh, my God, that's so great!" I squeal and pull her into my arms, then lean back and add, "I always knew this would happen."

"Thanks, Bella," she says as Rose gives her a hug.

Tanya shows us around before it gets dark, then settles us into our rooms. I'm sharing with Alice, something I requested, as I don't want her waking up disoriented in a strange place. I also saw the look in Jasper's eyes when he checked her out, and I'm not taking any chances, no matter how much faith Tanya has in her brother. He hasn't returned, and there's a strong possibility that he'll come back wasted.

 _If anything happened..._

Once we shower, we come downstairs in our pajamas to relax. I'm glued to my phone, re-reading the words Edward sent.

"More texts from Edward?" Tanya asks.

I'm smiling at the screen again. "I'm just reading what he sent today. I got a poem first thing this morning."

"Care to share?" Tanya requests, and I do want to show off a little. I like them seeing this side of Edward.

"Sure." With a dreamy sigh, I start to read from my phone.

"And if I built this fortress around your heart  
Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire  
Then let me build a bridge  
For I cannot fill the chasm…"

"'And let me set the battlements on fire.'" Tanya joins in unexpectedly, singing the lyrics. "I have this album."

Searching through CD's, she locates what she's after and inserts it in the player.

"Sting," she says, flipping the cover over. " _Dream of the Blue Turtles_ ," she reads and hands me the cover. "We used to play this on the island all the time."

"I've never heard of it."

"Oh, maybe it was before your time. Someone probably took it when they left."

The track starts with a rumble of thunder, leading into a beautiful and gentle melody. Tanya knows all the words, smiling as she sways, getting me up to dance. She closes her eyes when the chorus starts, stronger, and Edward's poem becomes the song.

I sing with her like a war cry, feeling Edward here with us, until a very moody clarinet fades into the same sweet melody, and I twirl. It's unlike any genre I know, but this may be my new favorite song.

She chooses another track called, "If You Love Somebody Set Them Free." I _do_ know this one, and we dance, being silly, like we used to on the island.

Alice has fallen asleep, so I gently wake her and take her upstairs to bed.

When I return, the music has been turned down, and there's a very different vibe in the room. Rose is slumped on the couch, looking down, and Tanya shoots me a concerned look as she leans on the arm of a chair.

"What's up?" I ask, slowing down as I approach them.

Tanya sits on the couch next to Rose. "Rose just told me about Edward… about Alice," she explains, looking troubled.

"Yep," I say, sitting down with them, pulling my knees up and hugging them. "We were all wrong about him."

"I don't understand why Edward had to come up with the money," Tanya asks with a puzzled look.

"Edward's father was a single parent who couldn't afford the therapy."

She's still frowning. "Where was Edward's mother?" she asks, as if it's obvious where the blame lies.

"She was shot and killed at a gas station in front of Alice, on Edward's birthday, would you believe? I think Alice was only two at the time." Just saying it makes me relive that horrible feeling when Alice first told me.

"Oh, stop." Rose closes her eyes as if it will shut out more information.

 _Well, she brought it up._

Tanya shakes her head slowly. "Poor Edward. I gave him such a hard time, and he was always good to me. I feel terrible."

I touch her arm and say, "Edward doesn't harbor any bad feelings towards you, Tanya. In fact, he said to tell you he owes you a drink at Masen's."

She smiles and nods as if she's remembering something nice about him. "When is he going to open the pub?"

I snort, thinking about the amount of work still in front of them. "There's no kitchen yet, no bar. We need televisions, cash registers, tables and chairs, staff."

Tanya looks around. "Tables and chairs? What about ours? We have to get rid of them anyway."

"Don't the new owners want them?"

"This isn't going to be a bed and breakfast anymore. A big family is moving in - five kids, grandparents, the works. They have their own furniture."

"What have you got?"

"Six small tables, plenty of dining chairs."

"I'll ask him." That would be so cool to give them a new home in the pub.

"Does he need any artwork, Bella?"

"We haven't discussed it, but there is one big wall."

"Then tell him we'll trade - the furniture and a painting for free drinks whenever I'm there."

"I'm sure he will go for that deal," I reply, chuckling.

"A pub in Covent Garden," she says, with eyes darting back and forth like she's sorting through ideas. "I could exhibit my work!"

"I could do something for Edward," Rose offers, sedately.

"What am I going to paint?" Tanya is on a roll, eyes sparkling with energy. She raises her hands in the air, visualizing an image in front of her. "Something local. Something that shouts, 'Covent Garden.'"

I just shrug my shoulders. I have no idea what sort of art goes in a pub.

"We need the dimensions of that wall. I'll measure the tables." She gets up as if she's ready to start now.

"Uh, can we do this tomorrow? I need to go to bed."

"Me too," Rose adds, looking exhausted, her smile not even reaching her eyes.

Alice is sound asleep so I check in with Edward, quietly leaving a voicemail message. "Hi, baby. It's been a big day, and we're going to sleep now. Text me, and let me know you are okay. I love you."

He responds quickly. _"I am okay. I love you too. Sweet dreams."_

As I'm getting into bed, Alice dreamily calls my name.

"Yes, Alice?"

"Are you and Edward getting married?"

She must have heard my message to him. "I don't think so, why?"

"I heard him tell Dad that he will marry you before you go back home."

"I'm not going home."

"Okay, goodnight, Bella."

"Night, Alice."

Even though I was tired, I lay there for ages with the biggest grin on my face, thinking how much I love her brother.

The next morning, Alice's bed is empty, and I jump up in a panic, only to find her coming out of the bathroom, already dressed. Asking her to wait for me, I throw on some clothes, and we go downstairs together, finding Jasper finely chopping onions and mushrooms. Sitting on stools, we watch him slice the top of small bread rolls, scoop some of the bread out, and make a shallow cup which he fills with the vegetables. He places them onto a baking sheet with a drizzle of olive oil and a sprinkling of cheese before they go into the oven, and he sets the timer.

"Please tell me you are cooking our breakfast, Jasper," I say, almost begging.

"Uh huh. The rolls are the part-baked kind. They won't be long," he answers, filling the kettle and turning it on. Then he's on to his next job of chopping chives and slicing tomatoes. A small bowl appears, he tears off a piece of plastic wrap to line it, and then cracks in an egg and a pinch of the chives. He ties it off, leaving a long tail, repeating the process until a plate is covered with cute little parcels.

Alice smiles at me before her eyes return to what he's doing. She's enjoying this too. Grabbing a frypan, he lights the gas and splashes in a little olive oil. Quickly, the tomatoes start sizzling. He pours hot water into a saucepan, lights another gas jet, checks the time on the oven and then lowers the plastic wrapped eggs in.

"Yum," I murmur. My mouth is already watering.

"Yum," Alice echos.

He starts cleaning up, rinsing and placing things in the dishwasher. It's done before I can even offer any help.

"So, Tanya tells us you want to be a chef."

"Yeah, and you'd swear I told her I'm gonna sell crack for a living."

I look at Alice to see if she reacts. When there's nothing, I feel calm enough to snort at his joke.

"You know it's hard work, long hours, low pay?"

"Yes, when you start, but I'm going to have my own restaurant, and then I'll be making luka."

"Do you mean money?" I ask, unsure, and he stops cleaning, frowning at me like I'm an idiot.

"You havin' a lend?"

The word "lend" doesn't give me a point of reference. "Sorry?"

"Are you having a lend?" he repeats with a frown.

I'm going to assume he means taking the piss. "No, I'm not. It's good to have a dream, and we all have to start somewhere. In fact, that's where I am at the moment."

Again, he frowns at me. "But you're old," he says. "Why are you only just starting?"

I won't insult him by laughing at his naivety. Do I want to waste my time explaining my passion for writing, and why I spent years in college? Nope. "I've been travelling in Europe," I answer, as if I'm older and wealthy and sophisticated.

"Oh, sick. _I'm_ going to travel. You know I thought Denali was an Italian name, but I looked it up. Most of the Denali's live in a place called Indonesia, and the rest are in the United States, so I'm going there someday."

"I'm half-Italian." We both look at Alice, who looks proud of her announcement.

"Yes, you are, Alice."

 _Hmm, and so is Edward. My hot boyfriend is half-Italian. It explains a lot, really._

"Sweet," Jasper adds, smirking at Alice.

As he flips the tomatoes over, I can't help comparing this to watching Edward make cocktails. It's a delight watching someone who loves what they do, someone methodical, who cleans up as they go.

"Tanya!" he calls out, and we hear her yell back that she's coming.

He brings the rolls out of the oven and tops each one with a slice of tomato. The aroma is incredible. As the timer goes off, he scoops the eggs from the water, setting them on a plate to drain. After placing two rolls on each plate, he snips the parcels just below the knot, and delicately places an egg on top of each roll. With a knife, he makes a tiny slice in them, allowing the yellow gooeyness to ooze out slightly. With a sprinkle of the rest of the chives, they're done.

Oh, my God, they look unbelievable. We don't waste any time trying them, then thank him profusely when we find they're delicious. The balance of flavors is impressive, and the eggs are perfection.

Watch out Jamie Oliver, Jasper Denali is coming.

Tanya comes downstairs with a laptop and hands me a piece of paper. "Measurements of the tables. You want to call him?"

"Good morning, Tanya. Do you mind if I eat first?"

 _Gosh, she's relentless when she's on a mission._

Placing her laptop on the counter, she ignores me. "No Rose yet?"

Shaking my head, I feel like we should let her sleep, that she's coming to terms with the repercussions of a lot of bad behavior.

"You're up early, Jazz. You didn't get hamstered last night?"

"Nuh, it was dead boring." Jasper answers with a mouthful of food. "What are you doing today?"

"I thought we'd go to Leeds Castle if the weather improves," she replies, cutting into her food and looking at the window, without much promise.

"I'll come," he offers, smiling at Alice.

"Call him, Bella," Tanya demands as soon as I finish, tapping the piece of paper. "Get the dimensions of that wall."

"Okay!" Glaring at her, I get down from my stool and go upstairs to get my phone, finding messages from Edward. From now on, this phone will be with me every second.

I sit on the bed and lose myself in his texts. He talks about the safety drill which took hours of their down time yesterday. When I text that I wish he was here, he sends me a selfie! I'm so absorbed in his smiling face that I almost miss the background, a glimpse into his world.

"Send me another one. Show me what it looks like where you are."

While I'm waiting, I tell him about Jasper, leaving out the way he looks at Alice, and I say we were dancing in Tanya's living room last night to his song from _The Dream of the Blue Turtles_.

He sends back a long row of smiles, and I picture him looking at the screen and smiling, just as I am.

An image arrives of two older men, holding up their hands to wave. They are reading newspapers, spread out over the table of a small booth. The caption is, _"This is where we eat."_

It's such a tiny area, but the men look happy to pose.

Another picture arrives of their sleeping area. It's currently deserted, with bunk beds, photos stuck to the walls, phones and chargers scattered about.

The next one is what looks like it might be their bathroom. He calls it the wet room, explaining that this is where they go through to the diving bell, and suddenly I'm focusing on the submarine type hatches, losing my breath.

He sends another picture, through the open hatch, and I can see just how small their living quarters are.

 _How does he do this for a whole month?_

 _"You there? Are you breathing, Bella?"_ he asks, and I burst into laughter. He knows me too well.

"Now that I'm laughing, yes."

 _"It's not that bad, really. What are you doing today?"_

"Don't know. It's raining."

 _"Well, I gotta go. Can I have a picture of you?"_

I send him a selfie, and tell him I love him. He sends back, _"My heart just stopped. I miss you."_

The sound of laughter downstairs makes me look up. Sighing, I call Carlisle's number and go downstairs, making the offer of the tables and chairs, as well as the painting. He takes the dimensions of the tables, telling me he will come back with the size of the wall. He wants to clarify that she doesn't want payment, and I tell him she sees it as a way to show her work in London.

He asks me how Alice is, telling me to remind her that he expects a call every day if she wants this kind of freedom. Once again, he thanks me for bringing her with us, saying they got a lot done yesterday, making a simple change that Emmett suggested, and Edward approved. When I ask what it is, he won't elaborate, saying he's looking forward to surprising us.

He finishes the call by telling me that having Emmett's help has meant they should finish the pub much sooner than expected, adding that the upstairs bathroom was completed yesterday. It's just the exterior walls that need paint now.

I have mixed feelings about this because Edward can move in as soon as he comes back, and I'm selfish enough to want him with me every night. Handing the phone to Alice, I tell her to talk to her father.

Tanya is searching through images of Covent Garden for inspiration when she asks me if we have been to the Piazza. I fill her in on the afternoon we spent watching the performers, and she smiles, turning the laptop to face me, pointing to a very small image.

"This," she says, quite seriously, and I don't know how to respond, leaning in to take a closer look. It's no more than two feet in soft silver shoes and the cuffs of a pair of patchwork pants. One foot balances on a tightrope and the other points to the ground. There's an old-fashioned wheel, feeding an end of the tightrope, and the background is blurry. It's like the painting of the seahorses she gave me, focusing on the main subject and only suggesting what's behind.

I smile when I look at her and ask, "Can we see a little more of him?"

She chuckles and shakes her head. "It's just the idea. I can zoom out and imagine where he is."

"It's cool." Jasper voices his approval. Alice nods as well, smiling at Tanya.

"Edward will love this." I add, and everyone is in agreement. Rosalie, however, still hasn't surfaced. Looking at the stairs, I listen for sounds of the shower, but it's quiet.

Just as I'm about to go to her, my phone rings, and it's Carlisle wanting to speak to Tanya. It sounds like he's thanking her profusely, and she offers him an arrangement that would benefit her as well, showing other smaller pieces on a temporary basis, using the pub as a gallery.

They seem to come to an agreement because she writes some figures down and hangs up, throwing her arms in the air. "We're on," she announces, beaming. "Come upstairs to my studio, and help me choose."

She obviously can't wait to get started. It's still raining, and we can go to Leeds Castle some other time, or not. It's Tanya we came to see anyway.

On the way, I knock on Rosalie's door, and she tells me to come in. She's lying down, reading her phone, and I ask her if she's okay.

"I think I have to go back on my own," she answers softly, without getting up.

"To London?" I ask, wondering what's happened.

"No… to Seattle. Emmett is saying there's more work to do on the pub than he anticipated."

I sag, imagining how things may have escalated after her confession the other day. Emmett wasn't happy when I left.

"He can't stay and work. I know that better than anyone."

"He's not officially working until the pub is open. Edward is giving him cash."

"Well… we can help them finish it, can't we? I heard you say you should do something for Edward."

She's not even listening, talking right over me. "It's just an excuse, Bella. Emmett and I have hardly spoken, and I'm not sticking around if he's going to be unpleasant. I might go to Spain after all. I've been looking at last minute deals, and the Running of the Bulls is on next week."

"So you still have money left?"

"Of course, Emmett's been paying."

I shouldn't be surprised, and yet I am. Did she ever have real feelings for Emmett, or was he just another convenience? He's such a sweetheart, probably devastated, pushing himself by working on the pub.

Putting up with her shit and letting it roll off me is something I've become used to, but her treating _him_ like this is not okay. There will be no words from me to sway her, nor do I care enough anymore to chastise her. She might appear to be making an effort, but deep down, it will always be about what's best for Rosalie Hale.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Rose, but you have to do what's right for you."

The sooner she goes now, the better.


	16. Chapter 16

_**Yes, it's been weeks and I'm sorry, but I have people who need me at the moment and I'm struggling to keep up with my own stuff. Thank you for all the reviews. I will respond to every one because you keep me writing when I don't have the time.**_

 _ **To Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley, thank you for being patient with me. I love you girls to bits.**_

* * *

 **Chapter 16**

Watching Tanya plan a piece of art is fascinating: the sweep of a curve, the smudge of a thumb, the angles of perspective drawn in an underlying draft that will never be seen in the final product. Today she's only roughing out on paper where her subject will sit before she starts the canvas.

We're supposed to be choosing some other pieces to accompany this new work at the pub, but I'm drawn into what she is doing. She says she has been to the Covent Garden Piazza, but she is using images from her laptop to guide her spatially, helping her find the right angle.

She draws a vague outline of the Punch and Judy Pub and the roof of the market. A few carrot shapes appear, the birth of spectators come to witness the show.

"Okay," she says, putting down her pencil. "Anything acceptable?"

Remembering what I should be doing, I answer, "Sorry, I got caught up watching you."

"This one." Jasper holds a canvas containing a man standing at a window, his smile incongruous with the bleak outlook of raindrops on glass.

"Why that one? It's not very colorful," she counters.

"I like _him_. He sees the life the rain brings and not the gloom."

"That's so deep, Jazz," she says with a smirk.

"Isn't that what it means?"

"He is seeing something that's not right in front of him." We all turn to Alice who might have solved Tanya's puzzle.

"You're close, Alice. He's looking at one thing and thinking about something else. It wasn't supposed to be complicated."

"I think it's interesting." I put my two cents in. "People will talk about it, wondering why he's smiling. It doesn't have to be colorful."

We pick other paintings based on the fact that we can't agree on their story. Jasper and Alice offer their insight on each one and enjoy each other's differing views.

Tanya finds an informal theme for her first exhibition - subjectivity.

A knock on the door reveals Rosalie, finally joining us, dressed as if she's ready to go out.

"Tanya, would you be able to drive me to the station? I'm leaving."

"What's happening?" Tanya asks, and Rosalie looks at me, silently asking if I've said anything about our conversation earlier. When I shake my head slowly, she explains.

"I have to get back to London. Sorry."

"I don't understand," Tanya queries her, looking anxious. "Is it Emmett?"

"Sort of, we're breaking up. I'm off to Spain before I go home to prepare for my new job."

"So that's that," I state, feeling bitter that she's leaving so quickly. "You're going."

"Yes, I'm flying out tomorrow. Will you take me?" she asks again, directing her stare at Tanya.

"Sure," Tanya answers, looking at me when Rose walks out. "I can't believe this."

I want to see Rose off at the station, and that means Alice comes with us. Jasper says he'll come too, so the car is full.

We get out in the rain to say goodbye, trying to share umbrellas, and I feel the pang of parting ways like this. We've been away from home for so long, and all I remember are the remarkable things we've done together. She will always be a part of my life because she was part of our big adventure, but she's sullying the memory by this departure. It's wrong.

"Good luck," I say as I hug her. "Call me, and let me know you're okay."

"You are going to be an amazing writer, you know. You, lady, are the best of us," she offers, with more honest emotion than I've come to expect from her.

After a stilted hug with Tanya and a wave to Jasper and Alice, she leaves, rushing to get out of the rain. Buying her ticket at the counter, she turns to give us a final wave before going through. I don't know how Tanya feels about this, but for me, it's a mixture of loss and relief.

Tanya sighs heavily when we get back in the car. "Let's go into town. I think we need Lanna."

"Yes, we do! I'm in," Jasper answers enthusiastically.

"Our favorite Thai restaurant," Tanya clarifies, winking at me and looking at Alice whose face lights up as she nods.

After the weirdness of Rosalie's sudden departure, we did need Lanna. We devour the mixed starters for four and still manage to get through a couple of curries with Alice's choice, pineapple rice. Walking out of the restaurant, we're stuffed and feeling much better.

That night, Edward sends me a text.

" _I am okay. Are you there?"_

"Yes. Your texts are everything to me, you know. Are you tired?"

" _Yeah, I'm exhausted, but I wanted to tell you something first. There's a bright disc on the wall outside the window. It could be a light, but I think it's the moon, reflected from somewhere else. A light wouldn't move down the wall like this one does. The moon was almost full from the train on the way here, so if it changes shape, then I'll know. Soon it will halve and then disappear. The other half will eventually emerge, so watch the moon, my love. When it becomes full, you'll know I'm coming back to you."_

What he's written is beautiful. Does he realize he's writing his own poetry now and how clearly I can see him at that window? He has so many facets he continues to reveal to me, and I want them all. I walk outside, and I can see the moon, not quite round, just before it's obscured by moving clouds. It's fresh out here after the rain, and the smell is earthy and wonderful. I sit down on their patio to enjoy it while I text with him.

" _So, will you go on a date with me? A dance under the next full moon we see together?"_

"That's a locked-in date, baby. I can't wait."

" _Me too. I love you."_

"You know, you're very romantic."

" _Am I?"_

"Yes."

" _:D"_

"Hey, I was reminded today that you're half-Italian, right?"

" _Uh, yeah."_

"I... um... like the idea of that, having a hot Italian lover."

" _Jesus. Okay, stop that now. I am going to try to sleep. With five ugly men. I will talk to you tomorrow."_

"Bye, sexy."

" _Damn! Goodnight."_

My giggles soon subside when it's just me in the garden, and no more Edward to talk to. Sighing, I realize that Rosalie's departure is only the first of many and wonder for the tenth time how I'm going to get through the months when he's away, and I can't stay with Ang and Ben anymore.

Tanya comes out with two glasses of wine and asks, "You finished? Was that Edward?"

"Yeah," I answer, glancing inside, where Alice and Jasper are on the Playstation.

"You up for a heart to heart, Bella?" she asks, handing me a glass.

"Of course. Thank you."

"What happened with Rose and Em?"

"I'm glad she's gone, Tanya, and I don't care if I never see her again. Emmett is too good for her."

I realize I don't need to say anything about Rose's confession the other day. It probably opened Emmett's eyes to see her true self.

"And you're too good for her, Bella."

"I don't think I understand her. She's been gradually getting worse for a while, I suppose. At first I thought she just couldn't stand Edward, but she actually treats all men like shit. Emmett would have come on the trip with us, but she effectively banned him. Then she was bawling her eyes out at the airport when we left, but she went months without mentioning him after that.

"She picked up a guy in Zurich who was the reason we went to Davos to work and then dumped him just as quickly when we left. In Greece she said she was missing Emmett again. In Italy she had a new guy who lived with us for weeks. Somehow she's able to walk away when it suits her.

"Honestly, I didn't have a problem with her men. I was no angel myself. I had a fling with a snowboarder in Davos," I say, taking a sip of my wine.

"Good for you," she says, touching her glass to mine.

"I haven't told Edward about it."

She turns to face me and stares. "Why should you? You've done nothing wrong. He abandoned _you_ , Bella."

"Anyway, Rose was awful to Jake, and he was a really nice guy."

"Were you in love with him?"

"No, I was in love with Edward, even though I hadn't heard from him in months. Rose said I was pathetic."

"You do know that Rose had a thing for Edward."

I look at her in disbelief. "No!"

"He turned her down flat, said he preferred brunettes. It was right after you two arrived. She made her move on Emmett after that, smothering him with sex. The poor guy didn't stand a chance."

I feel like I've been hit by a bus, processing her attacks on Edward in a new light. It was like she was working against him constantly. If she couldn't have him, then no one else was going to have a shot.

"Rose told me she loved living in that caravan, and she was waiting for her chance with him. Edward wasn't exactly shy about taking his clothes off, and she would have copped an eyeful a few times when he had girls there. She wasn't stupid. She knew none of them were a threat to her, but you have to wonder if the claws came out when the staff barman was finally taken. People were starting to talk about Edward Cullen and his girlfriend."

"I was his friend, Tanya, not his girlfriend."

"Jesus, Bella, you spent all your time together when you weren't working. You were seen kissing on the golf course one night and then on the beach. Did you think everyone was blind? I know you slept together the night before he left. Those walls were paper thin."

"Oh, shit. Did you tell Rose?"

"I never told a soul. I gave you every opportunity to open up to me, but you were determined to shoulder all that grief on your own, so I just tried to be there for you. I had a lot of guilt too."

Patting her hand, I say, "I know you did, and thank you. You kept me sane when I retreated into myself. I just couldn't forget him."

"Well, it seems like he couldn't forget you either." She glances behind me and says, "Hey, look at these two."

I turn and smile, seeing Jasper and Alice sharing earphones, quietly talking.

"We should go in. It's getting late."

"I think they're cute. He really is a good boy, Bella."

I take Alice up to bed and lie down with my mind racing. There are things that stand out now: Rose telling me to keep my bikini on when everyone else went naked, advising me not to crush on Edward, saying he was gorgeous but not boyfriend material, shutting Emmett down if he ever said anything complimentary about him.

I see how she manipulated me when she asked for her toiletries bag, knowing how shocked I'd be when I found Edward in bed with two women.

Words like, "Edward was never right for you," and "Why are you still encouraging him?" now hold a new meaning in her slightly twisted revenge on him. No wonder she ignored him when he turned up in London. It must have killed her to know he'd come for me.

* * *

Finally the weather improves enough to go to Leeds Castle, and we pack our bags early on Monday morning. The castle is forty minutes from Canterbury so Tanya and Jasper will drop us off at Maidstone Station for the return trip. Even though there are plenty of regular train services into London, I want to make sure we get back in plenty of time.

Tanya comes in with a beautiful shirt and necklace. "This is my lucky top. You don't have to iron it, and I think the maroon and white will look great with your coloring. The beads match if you want to add them. I'll get it back after they've employed you."

It's a lovely gesture, and I hug my friend. "Thank you. I'll take good care of it."

"I know you will, Bella. Hope it does the trick tomorrow. Do you need anything else?"

"Thanks, but I'll buy some clothes when I get a job." She's such a nice girl. I wish our trip to Europe had been her with Edward and Emmett. What a time the four of us would have had.

The grounds of Leeds Castle are immaculate, a restful place where black and white swans glide leisurely on the water. The castle is built over a lake, like a moat, with ducks and geese everywhere, much more friendly and polite than their counterparts on the island. We finish the tour of the castle itself, and there is a display of falconry, where magnificent birds of prey seem happy to submit to the will of their keepers.

Then Jasper asks if he can take Alice through the maze.

I agree. I've been watching him closely and I find myself liking him more all the time. His friends came around yesterday afternoon, and he told them he was busy, so there's no doubt that he likes spending time with Alice, but I don't believe he would touch her. Away from his friends, he's sweet and personable, losing the teenage chip on his shoulder.

When they come racing back from the maze together, Jasper is panting when he says she actually beat him to the center, but he had a hard time trying convince her to leave by the grotto. Tanya explains that the grotto or tunnel is the way you exit the maze, seen as the prize for solving the puzzle. It's filled with sculptures designed to give kids a fright as they leave. I thank Jasper for looking after her and announce it's probably time to leave.

At the station, Jasper and Alice shake hands and laugh softly to say goodbye. Then Jasper tells her he will see her in London. When I query this with a look toward Tanya, she says they will bring the painting with the tables and chairs.

Alice has been no trouble at all. While she does not talk a lot, what she says is honest and appropriate, and I think she's gained some confidence away from her father.

I hug Tanya, telling her I'm going to miss her and thanking her for an eventful weekend. She nods and laughs, wishing me luck for tomorrow, and asks me to let her know how the interview goes.

* * *

I'm sitting in the reception area of Vertigo Magazine, slightly early for my appointment. Edward has been texting me all morning and making me nervous. Now he sends me a message, asking me if I'm there yet. I tell him I can't talk now and turn my phone down, trying to look professional.

"Hi, Bella." Charlotte comes out and offers her hand. Seeing a friendly face calms me slightly. "How was Canterbury?"

"Very beautiful and historic."

"Come on in."

She leads me into the offices I remember vividly as small, but elegantly furnished. We walk past her office and turn left into something much larger.

"Maggie Stapleton, this is Isabella Swan."

"Nice to meet you," I say, not sure if I should offer my hand.

"Have a seat. Can I call you Isabella?"

"It's just Bella. Everyone calls me Bella."

"Fine, well let's get to it. I have to apologize for leaving you hanging. This is the time of year we take our summer holidays, so we're back in time to cover the Wimbledon finals. Do you have a favorite player?"

"Ah no, not yet. I've never really followed it before, but I've seen a few games lately. It's on everywhere I go in London."

"It is, and it brings people to the UK. July and August are important months for our tourist economy. The schools break up for the summer vacation. The Palace is open to the public; music festivals and street carnivals are on everywhere."

"I love this city."

"Do you love it enough to sign a three year contract?"

I really hope my eyes just didn't bulge out of their sockets. "Absolutely."

"What is going to keep you here once it gets cold, and the rain keeps falling?"

"I come from Seattle. I'll trade you the weather anytime."

She chuckles and nods as if she may have been there. "So why London? Wouldn't somewhere warm and sunny be preferable?"

"I've wanted to come here and work since I started high school. It's always been a dream of mine."

She leans back in her chair and assesses me. "The reality may be quite different."

"The reality _is_ quite different, believe me. That's why I sent out the emails. There doesn't seem to be a way in."

"I like your tenacity, Bella, but the system is not designed to keep out good people. It's there to protect British citizens."

"I understand that, but it feels very unwelcoming."

"I would imagine you've hit some barriers trying to gain employment."

I may as well be honest. "I've hit barriers just trying to gain an interview."

"What is your involvement with James Hilton?" Wow, that came out of left field.

"He approached me while I was travelling, telling me he was going to offer me a job, and set up the links from the blog. He didn't have a job to offer when I arrived here." There's no need to mention the job he _did_ offer me.

"Do you realize your blog is still linking into his website?"

"Yes, I guess. I haven't done anything to dismantle that."

"He's making money from you."

"Okay, well, I should fix that right away."

"You can leave that to us. The grilling is over, Bella. We like you a lot. You have a very engaging voice on the internet, and it shows in the number of hits you are getting.

"We're starting a new segment for the magazine called _Zipline_. It's aimed at the younger traveller who comes in the off season and stays on the journey for months, the kind of trip you've just completed. These tourists keep the hostels, cheap hotels, and eateries open when it's quieter. It's a massive market, and one that continues to grow when bloggers like you share information about the fun you are having and where the good deals are.

"We have already employed one Brit who is going to cover the overland treks through Asia, but we haven't found anyone for Europe. We think that person is you."

My hand is covering my mouth because she's saying yes. It doesn't seem real after a whole month of rejection.

"There are some considerations, though. We cannot offer you the position yet because we must satisfy the immigration rules. The job has been re-advertised as of yesterday and will continue for another two weeks. At that time, if no other better candidate appears, then we can offer you a sponsorship for three years. It's then up to you to apply for a Tier 2 general working visa. I presume you understand everything that entails.

"Yes, I need to prove I've had 1,000 pounds in my bank account for three months. It costs 564 pounds for the application fee and I have to pay my medical insurance of 200 pounds.

"For each year, Bella, in advance."

"Oh, so another 400 pounds. My parents will lend me anything I need, and I still have a car back home I can sell."

"Bella, we believe we've already interviewed all the candidates in the country. You've already proved you can attract followers. You have recent experience of what it's like to travel in Europe, and best of all, you can write. I actually shed a tear when I read that piece you submitted, and I am very hardened to the written word. May I ask, is the story true?"

"Partly, it is about losing someone, only in a different situation and place."

"I'm terribly sorry," Maggie offers, glancing at Charlotte as if she should have been informed of this.

"It's okay; he's my boyfriend now," I reply with a grin. "He's opening a pub here so I'm staying if you offer me the job."

"You have a British boyfriend?"

"Yes." It's true. Even with the accent, he was born here.

"Where is the pub?"

"Covent Garden. It's called Masen's if you want to come by for a drink."

"Well, we'll have to review it online. Now, you understand that we will take over the links to your blog?"

"Yes, that's fine. I don't want him earning anything more from me. He only ever paid me 400 pounds for all those words."

They look at each other uneasily.

"Please tell me you did not work for him without a working visa."

Suddenly I'm the one who is uneasy. "He deposited the money in my account when I was in Italy."

 _Shit, I think it was Italy._

"Disreputable bastard. Has he followed it up with anything since you've been in this country?"

I shake my head, realizing the trap I could have easily fallen into if I'd taken the job James offered me. Disreputable bastard is right.

"They will check everything before they grant you a working visa," Charlotte warns me.

Trying to look confident, I reply, "No, they can check my account. I've had no income since coming here. They'll only find the deposits from my parents."

"Okay, then let's proceed," Maggie's smile says she believes me. "Keep going with your blog, and we'll be in touch."

"Thank you," I say, shaking hands with both women and feeling more positive. Now, all I have to worry about is the possibility that someone else could come and knock me out of the running for the job. Two weeks less a day to go. It feels so close, but I can't reach out and touch it yet.

I leave the offices of Vertigo without any discussion about money or travel, but it's a job, one I'm perfectly suited for. I know the minimum they have to pay me is 20,000 pounds. It's not much, but if I can live with Edward at the pub, then I should be fine.

 _Stay positive, Bella. As Carlisle says, these things have a way of working themselves out, and if Alice heard Edward right, he's prepared to marry you rather than let you go home._

I decide to put on my brightest voice and leave Edward a voicemail. I tell him not to get too excited yet, but I'm truthful about how well the interview went and how they say they do want me. Then I tell him there's some red tape to go through before a formal offer, which is also true, and say I won't know for two weeks.

" _SHIT!"_ comes back. _"Don't get excited? There's always red tape! They want you, my love! You've got it!"_

"Calm down, baby. It's being advertised for another two weeks, and someone else could come along and beat me."

" _Bullshit,"_ he texts. _"You're going to get this. I know it."_

God, I adore this man. Just a couple of messages, and he can make me feel on top of the world.

"Okay, I'm going to get it. I will get it. I want to stay here with you."

" _Oh, you are staying here with me. Don't doubt that."_

There are tears in my eyes from the emotion overtaking me. Now I know I am staying, one way or another. I'm not going home.

* * *

 _ **Thanks for reading.**_

 _ **xo**_


	17. Chapter 17

_**We don't celebrate Thanksgiving in Australia, obviously, but I have many reasons to give thanks. To everyone who's been patient and gracious enough to read and review, I send you my heartfelt gratitude. To those of you celebrating with family today, take time to enjoy their company and learn a little more about who they are. The memories will become more precious than you can imagine.**_

 _ **Happy Thanksgiving to you American girls, especially the gang of three who selflessly help me with this story -**_ _ **Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley Hemingway xxx**_

* * *

 **Chapt** **er 17**

On a night when the sky is clear, I take the laptop to the window and show Edward the moon, now a diminishing fingernail that will soon disappear, then come back reversed.

When texts and emails and pictures are no longer enough, Edward sends me a message, _"Want to try to Skype?"_ I look at the words and snort, wondering why he would suggest it when he has no intention of actually speaking to me.

Now I know we should have been doing this since he left because I get to watch his handsome face while he organizes his thoughts as he types. He is so gorgeous and vulnerable like this, when a crooked smile or a simple nod speaks more than an essay of words.

He has been asking questions tonight, personal things about my family, beliefs, long-term goals. It feels like he's interviewing me, but he's been generous in offering his own answers. They show we are very much alike.

There are squeaky sounds in the background that I know are voices. They make me question the challenge the men face communicating with the team outside of the pressurized environment.

The other divers are irritating him, hovering in the background and blowing kisses to me. I laugh as I watch him get physical with them, enjoying the show of lighthearted fun. Then someone closes the Skype window, and I sigh and shake my head, wishing I could linger in their world for a little longer.

Each day I'm more confident that the job at Vertigo is mine. Charlotte has been wonderful, emailing every so often to say I'm still the top candidate, and I will never forget her kindness and support. I no longer think of myself as a failure, only lucky I walked into their office and found someone too polite to turn me away.

We're not celebrating yet, however. Other people have applied, and there are formalities, approvals to secure before I receive that all-important sponsorship number that links my name with the position. I'm trying my best not to obsess about it.

I just wish Edward was back.

It's not like I don't have things to occupy my time. Mornings I spend on my most important asset, the blog. It's the reason I received a job offer from a magazine to start in their Dubai office, tax free, and tempting for a nanosecond.

Since I took Maggie's advice and made the updates more personal, traffic has doubled. These days, Klaus posts about Bella's separation from her boyfriend, named "Diver", and how hard it's been for her get a job in London, hoping to educate people so they don't come here thinking it's easy.

The responses I receive are so frustrating. This city is teeming with Aussies, New Zealanders, and Canadians, all happily working under something called the Youth Mobility Scheme. If they have a parent or even a grandparent born here, they're basically welcomed in as well. Of course, the USA is not part of it, having broken its ties with the Commonwealth long ago. It's so unfair.

Occasionally I blog about the pub's renovations, without giving away its progress to Edward, who is reading and dying to know what they're doing.

Each afternoon when I go to the pub, there's something new. While we were in Canterbury, the kitchen arrived, and Carlisle and Emmett had to open up the wall because the units wouldn't fit through the doorway. What Edward bought is sleek, industrial, and glamorous enough to display, so the opening will remain. It looks fantastic, and now there's space for two more tables and chairs.

"Order at the bar, take a pager, and collect here. No servers," Emmett announced when he showed me the setup. "Everything is done from the tills. Even the music is gonna play from them."

"The music plays from the tills?" I asked, surprised by his enthusiasm.

"Yeah, online music," he said, grinning. "You pay the license and download thousands of tracks."

Maybe it's because he took over Edward's empty room at the pub when Rosalie left, but Emmett is now taking more ownership of the project, determined to surprise Edward when he returns. The arrival of more stainless steel cabinets, glass-fronted fridges, dishwashers, and an icemaker quickly finish the kitchen and create the rear section of the bar.

The plumber becomes my best friend when I take him a cup of tea. I still can't understand what he says, but he gives me the thumbs up and then stays late, installing the washer/dryer combo upstairs.

Emmett wants to start stocking the place immediately. Between the two us, we know our way around glasses, so that decision is easy. He sends Alice and I on errands to catering suppliers to view tableware he's seen on the internet. We're given the task of visiting other local pubs to see what brings in the clientele.

I spend an evening with Emmett, putting together the massive order, and I like how much more vibrant he is without Rosalie.

"I knew she would leave," he admits, picking at the label on his bottle of beer. "Rose fabricated that story about causing the raid on the island."

He doesn't elaborate, so I don't know if he's made an assumption or if she admitted it.

"Why would she do that, Em?"

"Couldn't stand not being the center of attention."

 _Yeah, that sounds about right._

I never repeat what Tanya told me about Rosalie's attraction to Edward because I don't know if Emmett is aware. It's something I use to squash the occasional feelings of missing her that amaze me. She hasn't bothered to let either of us know she's okay, so Emmett and I agree that she was great fun on a good day, and that's where we leave it.

Anyway, I know better than to comment on someone's ex, even if she was _my_ friend first. Bitter words can come back to bite you.

A few days later, we meet our new chef, Liam, a Scotsman from Glasgow. Emmett knows to involve him in setting up the kitchen the way _he_ likes to work. In turn, Liam helps us unpack and put everything away where he wants. He's maybe thirty, the oldest staff member of the pub. The barmen are apparently in their twenties.

Once a new door goes in at the top of the stairs, Edward's living area is secure. Then Carlisle replaces the rotting gates at the back of the property and builds the outdoor furniture for the beer garden. Emmett works on the wiring for the electronic devices, installing two large televisions and speakers, ready for the Wimbledon finals. Everyone has their favorites, and mine are Serena Williams and Roger Federer. I'm going to cook in the new kitchen, and Ang and Ben are joining us for lunch.

Coming up the street with my groceries, I smile when I hear Van Morrison playing. As I get closer and realize it's coming from the pub, I speed up with a pounding heart. Breathless, I rush inside.

"Where is he?" I screech when I can't see Edward.

"Who?" Emmett asks.

"Edward," I answer, putting down the groceries and searching for him without luck.

"He's still away, Bella." I hear him, but I still check upstairs to make sure, standing in the new bathroom as disappointment sets in. I have to pull myself together before I can come back down.

"Who is playing Van Morrison?" I ask, wanting to know if this is a cruel joke.

"I am," Carlisle answers innocently. "You don't like him?"

"Yes... I like him," I mumble, picking up the bags and heading to the kitchen. It's not Carlisle's fault his son shares his musical taste, but I don't want to talk to any of them right now.

Alice helps me, cheering me up when she sings and dances to "Bright Side Of The Road". She knows how much I'm missing her brother, and I feel better by the time Ben and Angela arrive. Angela is fascinated, quizzing Carlisle about the history of the property.

"My dance school is only around the corner if you need me to take a shift or two," she offers.

"I'll let Edward know," Emmett replies. "But we've already lined up two bartenders to start whenever we're ready. We pinched them from a pub near the station," he says, chuckling.

Alice nudges Carlisle and he asks, "Who is this boy wanting a job as an apprentice chef?" He looks at me as if I have something to explain.

"Who, Jasper?" I inquire, wondering what Alice has told him.

"Yes, Bella," he answers, raising his eyebrows.

"Tanya's brother is a very nice sixteen-year-old boy who aspires to be a great cook. Are you looking for an apprentice chef, Carlisle?" I ask with a smirk.

He narrows his eyes at me and then lifts his chin defiantly. "We might be. I'll have to speak to my son."

I can only grin at him. I'm going to miss him so much when he goes home to Chicago.

We have lunch in the beer garden and then cheer as if we're lifelong fans of tennis as Serena wins her final in two sets. There is something unique about Centre Court at Wimbledon. It's the most elegant sporting venue in the world.

The next day, it takes nearly three hours for Roger to accept defeat to the Serb, who wins for the second year in a row.

I lose five quid to Ben. The bastard knew he would win again.

* * *

Carlisle starts work on the bar, building shelves on the back wall and then creating the bar itself in sections. It's fascinating to watch a master cabinetmaker at work, but on days when he's cutting timber, Alice and I leave. The day she turns fourteen, Carlisle has the whole day off, making her birthday memorable by taking us to the Warner Bros. Studio to see the world created for the Harry Potter movies.

Alice has had her head buried in the books lately, so she's beside herself, captivated by all the props and animatronics they used in the production. She insists on a Gryffindor robe for her ride on a broomstick in front of the green screen, the highlight of her day.

Seeing her so joyous and out with her father is the highlight of my day.

We're in Diagon Alley when I get Charlotte's call. "Congratulations, Bella. We chose you. Can you come into the office tomorrow to go over the sponsorship and visa application?" Trying to sound calm and professional, I thank her and hang up, jumping and spinning Alice around and squealing. I almost can't believe it's happening.

"Are you there?" I text Edward, dying to tell him I'm employed, but he doesn't answer. We have already spoken today so he's probably in the water. "I got the job!" I follow up, disappointed he might not get the message for hours.

Mom and Dad sound so proud of me that I have happy tears, releasing the stress I've been harboring.

It's nine o'clock by the time Edward asks if I'll Skype with him. He's beaming, full of excitement, and asking all sorts of questions about what happens now. When we've covered all I know, he pauses and looks deeply at the keyboard, breathing out as he gets his thoughts together.

" _Move in with me,"_ he types, and his teeth grab his bottom lip as he looks up, convincing me with those green eyes that it's the best offer I'll ever get.

"What about Emmett?" I ask, teasing him. I already know the answer because there was no way Ang could keep the secret.

" _I've asked Angela and Ben if he can take your room, and they're cool. It's only until the end of August, anyway."_

"Well then, I'd love to," I reply with a smirk, crazy in love with him. "I cannot wait for you to come home."

" _Me either."_ He sends, looking a little melancholy. _"What's happening with our moon?"_

Going over to the window, the clouds are thick tonight, but I can guess. "It's starting to get full, baby."

" _I'm taking you somewhere special for our moondance, you know."_

"Really?" It seems like such a long time since I went out anywhere special at night when my sole purpose has been to conserve money.

" _You're gonna love it."_

"If you're there, I will love it."

The row of hearts that appears is adorable. "I love you," he mouths with both hands over his chest.

We sit there staring at each other for a while, not saying anything.

" _How's my pub going?"_

I love that he continues to fish for answers when he knows nobody will give up the information. Picking up Klaus, I fiddle with his horns.

" _Well?"_

"You'll see soon enough."

" _Damn woman!"_

I break into giggles.

" _One more week, my love."_

"One week."

" _You let me know everything after the meeting tomorrow, my little journalist."_

"I will," I answer, nodding.

Someone in the background leans over his shoulder, and he elbows him away, pouting as he waves his fingers and mouths, "Bye bye." I'm laughing as we end the happiest call we've had in ages.

 _Wow. I'm really moving in with him._

* * *

It feels very different arriving at the offices of Vertigo this morning. This is now where I work, and I give my surroundings much closer scrutiny. They've already informed me that I'll only have access to a shared desk, and they don't encourage their journalists to work from the office, but there will be regular meetings I have to attend here. The best thing is that it's walking distance from the pub, a luxury I'm grateful for.

Maggie Stapleton arrives as I'm waiting and smiles at me. "Welcome, Bella. Come on through." She beckons me to follow her to her office, dropping her bag and looking out the window. "Sit down," she says. "I'm very sorry this took longer than expected. Someone here applied and then appealed when we turned him down."

"Oh," I respond, uncomfortable that my employment has caused trouble already.

"He resigned, proving he had no loyalty, so don't give it any thought."

Charlotte joins us, and for the next hour, they explain the job and what is expected of me. They are going to start me on twenty-five thousand pounds, more than they are obliged to pay, based on my blog linking to their website. They will cover all travel costs, including accommodations. Meals are up to me unless I can review the place where I eat. It looks very reasonable, so I sign a contract, agreeing to start work pending visa approval.

I also sign the letter they have ready, directing James to remove his links to my blog immediately. We cover the documentation required for the visa application, then Maggie hands me a couple of sheets of paper, printed from the UK government website, and asks me to read them carefully to confirm I don't fit into a category in the list.

I've seen this eligibility section before, listing schemes the UK has in place to attract certain highly-skilled employees. There are transfers allowed from other working visas and dependents who automatically qualify. As I reach the end, certain that none of them apply to me, the words in the final sentence leap off the page and charge every synapse in my brain.

"You must leave the UK and make your Tier 2 (General) application from abroad if you're not in any of these categories."

 _Abroad_.

I don't want them to see how floored I am as I shake my head.

 _How the fuck did I miss this?_

"So where are you going? All the way to Seattle?"

Looking up, I place the paper on the desk and grin, hoping they'll assume my hands are trembling from excitement.

"Yes, I have things to pack now and a car to sell."

Maggie looks delighted with my plan, tidying the papers into two sets, sliding mine into an envelope. "Okay, let's aim for a start date of September 1st. That should cover any delays, but the approval normally takes about three weeks. Don't be lured into the premium service, Bella. If there's the slightest error and the application's held up, you still have to pay."

As a journalist, I should know exactly what she's talking about, but I don't.

"Sure, that's good advice," I respond, feeling pitiful and useless.

Standing, she says, "I am very excited about 'Zipline.' I know it's going to be an enormous success."

"Thank you," I reply, shaking their hands and taking my envelope, leaving in a terrible state.

It's pouring outside, and I drag myself home, glad there's no text from Edward yet. I hit the UK government website, and after an hour, I have 31 pages open, realizing how the complexity of the rules defeated me. They don't provide phone support, so I try asking specific questions in Google, and I eventually find the specific area I need.

From my home country, I apply online, then book an interview at an Application Support Center where they will take my photo and fingerprints. I have to surrender my passport with the application, but everything will be returned to a nominated post office. Luckily, there's a center in Seattle, part of the Department of Homeland Security.

Then I check out the airfare. The cheapest flight to Seattle is $1200 I don't have.

I scream at the computer, drowning in a sea of information, pulling me down into despair. Maggie expects me to start in five weeks, and I have no idea how long it takes to get an appointment. If it's supposed to take three weeks for approval, then I have to make a quick decision.

I cannot leave London before Edward gets back. If there's an unforeseen delay, my return could coincide with him leaving to dive for the month of September. Then I won't see him for three whole months. The thought almost beats me, but I refuse to give in when I'm this close.

Going back to the website, I double-check I have everything for my application, then I click on the link that says, "Find out how long it will take to get your visa." What jumps out is the bold text that says most applications are processed within 5 days with 99% decided in 15 days.

That's _not_ three weeks.

Maybe nothing will go wrong. I'm a very lucky person. If I can get over this final hurdle, I _will_ have everything I dreamed of. This is just a sacrifice for a result that's worth it, and the thought buoys my spirits enough to send a text to Edward.

"I'm starting on September 1st, baby! I love you. Text me when you're back."

I'll have to wait until later to call my parents and ask for more money. They won't argue with my selling my car so I can pay them back now. Knowing them, they'll be ecstatic that I'm coming home.

Then my phone rings and I'm happy to see Tanya's name.

" _Did you find out yet?"_

"Yeah, I got the job."

" _Yay! I knew it! Now we have two things to celebrate! We're moving into our flat today. Can you take the furniture and paintings this afternoon? Say two o'clock?"_

After a quick call to Carlisle, I text her the address and tell her I'll meet her there.

When I arrive at the pub, Carlisle and Emmett press me for details. Optimistically, I say, "I start September 1st," not ready to share the full story while they whoop and whistle.

Tanya pulls the truck up out front with a toot of the horn. I come out and direct her to turn left and drive into the alleyway behind. Unlocking the new timber gates he built, Carlisle guides her to reverse into the back of the beer garden, having stacked the tables and benches out of the way.

Jasper jumps out first, looking around and smiling when he sees Alice. Her tiny wave is very cute. Tanya gets out and stretches, then holds her arms out to me for a hug.

"What a fantastic location this is." She looks past me and her expression softens. "Oh, Emmy."

Emmett drags her into his arms and rocks her. I forgot they haven't seen each other since she left the island.

Tanya wraps an arm around Alice, and I make introductions. Carlisle assesses Jasper, only giving him a nod, but Jasper impresses him, opening the back of the truck, expertly lowering the ramp and unloading the chairs. He checks out Emmett, who lifts the tables like they weigh nothing and says, "Swole," causing his sister to hit the back of his shoulder.

"You have a personal trainer?" Jasper inquires.

Shaking his head, Emmett answers, "There's a place up the road."

Between us, we get everything inside quickly, and then Tanya releases the paintings from their protective housing. The big one only just makes it through the door with her overseeing every movement.

"It's finished," she says to me, not relaxing until they place it down inside. The other paintings are propped against a wall as she takes in her surroundings. "Oh, my God. This looks incredible," she announces and goes to the bar, running her hand over the wood.

"Careful," Carlisle warns her. "It's not fully sanded yet."

"Is it oak?"

"Yes. The original bar was made from oak."

"Beautiful," she adds, like she's complimenting a fellow artist.

I can see Jasper poking around in the kitchen with a look of approval on his face as Alice watches him.

"Can we see the painting?" I ask Tanya, dying to see how different it is from the rough sketch I saw.

From her bag, she produces a tool with a slide out blade, which she uses to meticulously liberate the canvas from its cocoon of cardboard and tape. When we stand back, she lifts the thin sheet of plastic and everyone gasps as she labels it, "Tightrope."

The painting is compelling and dramatic. A tightrope artist, mostly in silhouette, takes up the left side of the huge work of art. He's up high, with a soft silver shoe on the wire and the other leg hanging out to balance him. The black-handled blades he juggles look sharp, and one glints in full sun for the moment it's in the air.

She has painted everything from his view, although you can see all of him in his dark outfit, complete with top hat. He's commanding an audience in front of the Covent Garden Market, the Punch and Judy Hotel and the market hall on the right. Nothing is in sharp focus except him, but you can feel the tension and wonder in the stance of the colorful crowd as they look up, some with hands covering their mouths and others shading the sun from their eyes.

Tanya has created a marvel of focus and suggestion. A unicycle rider, maybe waiting his turn to perform, is in the right section of the artwork in front of the throng, just as mesmerized as they are. He could be lingering, awaiting a mistake, because the man balancing on the high wire will certainly hit the ground hard if he falls without a net. There is danger here, perhaps a nod to the way we both used to see Edward.

I feel like I will notice something new each time I look at it, for she has captured something very special, a spectacle from which you can't turn away. This painting will be a talking point because it's so local to the area, and people will argue about her intention while they buy more drinks, hopefully. It will draw people into the pub, and they will certainly ask about this gifted artist.

Shaking my head slowly, I say, "Edward will love this. It's magnificent."

Her arm rests across my shoulders as she responds, "Yeah, it turned out okay."

Without any delay, they hang it on the wall, and I go to the front door to see its impact from the street. When Tanya joins me, she looks proud, and so she should. I always saw she had a gift, and now everyone will know.

She drapes the sheet of plastic over the painting, and they don't hang around, taking Emmett who offers to help them move in. The flat is at Holloway, about thirty minutes north of here, and Alice is disappointed when they only have room for three in the truck. She's on her phone as soon as they leave, mumbling "Piccadilly," and counting the number of stops.

"Can I help you, Carlisle?" I ask, wanting to talk to him.

He hands me a sanding sponge and asks me to gently smooth any rough edges I find.

"I have to go back to the States to apply for my visa," I state, and he stops working, looking up at me.

"When?"

"Soon. I'll stay until Edward comes back, but only for a couple of days."

"Does he know?"

Shaking my head, I answer, "I'm not looking forward to telling him."

I must look pretty low because Carlisle responds compassionately, touching the side of my arm. "He'll be okay."

Looking around, I admire how they've turned this space into something full of life that will surely thrive. "You've done so much work. Have you saved him a lot of money?"

"A small fortune, Bella."

"You're such a great dad."

"I'd like him to be making money by the time I go home so I don't have to worry anymore. I already know he's found someone special to keep him company."

It's enough for my eyes to fill with tears. "I don't want to go."

"Now, now. Look on the bright side. You'll see your family before you come home."

Nodding, I try to smile. This will be my home, at least for the next three years, and I'll share it with someone I love. As we sand the wood, Carlisle is kind, asking me questions about my family and Seattle, what it was like working on the island. I don't touch on any of Edward's criminal activities, only telling of a friendship that grew into a love story.

Edward's response comes as we are about to lock up for the day and it's obvious he's just read my last text.

" _You mean I get you to myself for the whole month of August? That's the best news! :D"_

His words crush me. Typing out a response, my fingers start to shake, and I delete what I've written.

" _You made your dream happen, my love. I'm so proud of you."_

Bursting into tears, I only manage a few words. "So did you."

" _You want to Skype?"_

"I'm still at the pub."

" _When you get home then? I won't be able to sleep."_

Sighing, I realize I have to do this face to face. "Okay. I won't be long. I'll text you."

" _:D"_

The train trip is too short to rehearse how I'm going to explain this clusterfuck. The walk from Waterloo Station makes me anxious. I put a finger up when I walk in on Ben and Ang watching TV, expecting me to tell them everything that happened during this morning's meeting.

Closing the door on my bedroom, I boot up the laptop and text Edward. "I'm home. Are you ready?"

" _Two secs,"_ he responds, and I imagine him muscling out whoever is currently using the computer. _"Okay, let's go."_ I hear the sound of him connecting and take a big breath before I see his smile. _"How does it feel?"_

"Good, but I still have to get the visa approved."

He frowns at me before typing. _"That's nothing. You won't have any problems."_

The gnawing feeling is so strong, I have to get this off my chest. "Edward, I have to go home to the States to apply."

He looks like he doesn't understand, and holds his hands up in question.

"I can't apply for the visa from within the U.K."

" _Are you sure?"_ Nodding, I watch him take in what I've said and look down at the keyboard. His lips mouth the word, "Fuck."

He runs a hand through his hair, and I see him struggling, echoing my reaction when I learned the same thing this morning. The tears I thought had dried up start to trickle down my cheeks, and I ramble out a bunch of apologies that I know aren't nearly enough. His expression softens, and he puts his finger to his lips to shush me.

" _When do you have to leave?"_

"As soon as I can."

" _Not this week. Please."_

"I'll fly out Sunday night."

It's not what he wants to hear, blowing out air before he'll look at me directly. He tries to smile, but disappointment is written like words on his face.

" _I arrive Friday morning, early."_

"I know, and I'll be there to meet the train."

" _How long will you be away?"_

"It usually takes about three weeks."

Now his hand covers his mouth. He's probably thinking what I thought: that we could miss each other if I'm delayed. All the enthusiasm about having me to himself for the month of August is gone.

After a few seconds, he starts to type. _"One thing I know is that I'm good at adapting. If I want something bad enough, like I want you, then it's going to happen one way or another. I've waited before, and I can wait again because having you permanently in my life is what matters. We will work it out, my love. Don't you worry for a second."_

I sniffle and nod, reading his words and looking up at him leaning forward on his elbows and smiling. He mouths, "I love you," and I say it back to him, believing I can't lose him, no matter what obstacles we face.

* * *

 _ **Thanks for reading.**_

 _ **xo**_


	18. Chapter 18

_**I do like the way Americans say "Happy Holidays." Christmas this year was a lovely relaxed affair for us and I hope you were able to spend time with family and friends, no matter what you may have been celebrating.**_ _ **Even in the midst of all their preparations for their own celebrations,**_ _ **Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley Hemingway made time for me to bring this to you.**_

 _ **You have swept me away with your beautiful reviews so I thought my gift to you should be to bring our diver boy back for his moondance. Watch out for a McMasen cameo too. xxx**_

* * *

 **Chapter 18**

The Skype call with Mom and Dad doesn't go as expected. They're ecstatic I'm coming home, but now they want details: specifics on where I'm planning to live and if I'm sure the job is paying enough to support me.

I decide to be upfront and tell them I'm moving in with Edward who earns more money in a month than I'll earn in a year, hoping they'll be impressed and reassured I'll be looked after.

Instead, it opens a flood of intense questions about him, no longer just someone I'm dating. Dad's not happy with me staying in the pub on my own while the diving continues, and he wants to talk to Edward immediately about my safety.

This is where it gets tricky. I've never had to explain what _sort_ of commercial diver Edward is, and neither of them take it well. Once they understand why speaking to him is impossible, Dad shakes his head, and Mom looks like she's going into shock.

"He has a nice family. I know you would like Carlisle and Alice," I plead, trying to make Edward seem more normal.

With a stern look, Dad replies, _"Maybe you could arrange for me to talk to his father then."_

Dad leans to his right, probably scribbling names down so he can start the background check.

" _Where is his mother?"_ he asks. _"Are they divorced?"_

My father is not a religious man, but he has deep beliefs about the permanence of marriage. He thinks only weak people get divorced.

"No, they were teenage sweethearts, still very much in love actually. She was killed during a robbery at a gas station when she drove in to fill up her car."

I don't need to say how young she was or how she died, that it was over ten years ago and happened on Edward's birthday. I don't have to mention a two-year-old lost her mother. Dad's forthright stance weakens, and Mom's expression makes me fight off tears. Dad puts his arm around her, looking uncomfortable that he's made an assumption. He's seen this kind of tragedy and what it does to families.

" _I'm sorry,"_ he offers. _"I will look forward to speaking with him."_

* * *

"Where's Emmett?" I ask casually, when I realize he's not at the pub.

"He sent me a text last night, said he'd be back this morning," Carlisle answers, not looking up as he concentrates on painting the top surface of the bar.

"He stayed with Tanya," Alice announces, lowering her copy of _Goblet of Fire_. "She's nice."

"She _is_ nice," I respond with a smirk, just as Emmett walks in.

"Hey," he greets us. He's wearing the clothes he had on when he left yesterday. "What?" he asks, as if I'm implying something by just looking at him, "We stayed up talking, that's all. They're an interesting pair."

"Pair?" I ask, coughing at the innuendo.

He glares at me and answers, "Yeah, Jasper's cool. He cooked us a late night supper, and man, it was good. We should give the kid a chance here, Carlisle."

"Speak to Edward," Carlisle replies, never taking his eyes off his smooth paint strokes.

"I will," he responds, pulling out his phone and sending a text. "Now what are we doing today?

* * *

Edward has somehow managed to find a contact at the immigration office, and he's been emailing, seeking an alternative to me going to Seattle. He keeps asking me to delay booking my flight, and it makes me anxious. Finally he admits what I'm doing is the quickest way back into the country, but then he's not happy with my choice of flight.

" _Why would I want you flying for 27 hours, stopping at God knows where, when I can afford to buy you a non-stop flight?"_

"Because it could look like you are paying me for something, Edward; you know that!"

" _Nope, I have it in writing. My contact says it will not affect your application if I pay for your flight home."_

Taking in a deep breath, I don't want to argue. Covering my lips with my fingers, I just look at him.

" _I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize us. Please. You have to trust me."_

He looks up from the keyboard, challenging me to stick to my original plan and say he doesn't know his facts, but I _do_ trust him. I've trusted him with my life.

"Okay, Edward."

He sighs and smiles, as if this is a big deal, and sends me his credit card details.

* * *

With nothing much to do during his last days decompressing, Edward steps up his questions about the progress of the pub. He shares his texts around, hoping one of us will let something slip, and we enjoy it like a group conversation, keeping the battle lines drawn.

A double bed is delivered, along with sheets, a comforter, pillows, and towels. No one here placed the order, and its arrival in front of his father makes me blush.

"Thank you Ed... for lookin' after mah back." I only give Emmett a sidelong glance, ignoring his lousy attempt at humor.

As soon as Carlisle is out of earshot, I point a threatening finger at Emmett. "That plastic stays on until Edward comes home."

His mouth gapes for a second, and then he retaliates, "Actually, I just realized I don't have to move out now. There's room for three upstairs."

I scowl at him, but I can't keep a straight face, and he laughs as he goes outside to join Carlisle, who is painting the pub's ground floor exterior. Emmett waves to Alice through the window she's cleaning, and I hear her softly giggle.

With the barriers outside removed, it's lighter in here. People walking past stop and poke their heads in the door, asking questions about the business we're opening. They've been chatting to Carlisle and Emmett on the street.

Back at my assigned job, the familiar ache in my wrists returns. I've become an expert at applying traditional beeswax, the final coat on all the new woodwork. The ache is from repetition and sheer volume, not because it's particularly hard work. The stuff soaks in like moisturizing lotion and needs very little buffing.

Alice is suffering too, flicking the stiffness out of her wrists. She's done a great job of cleaning all the windows. When she squeals, I look up and notice Tanya and Jasper outside. Emmett leans in to kiss Tanya's cheek, but the way she scrunches the t-shirt at his waist is telling. He's been cagey when I've asked him to come over for dinner the last few nights, and now the reason is there in front of me.

I really hope they're not hiding because of Rose because I'd be delighted to see two of my best friends find each other. If they're just having a fling when Emmett has to go back to the States, I'm in no position to criticize them.

"You staying for dinner, Bella?" Tanya asks, smiling as she looks around. "They've agreed to give Jasper a trial."

"Yes, ma'am. I'd love to."

Alice bounces when Carlisle agrees to let her accompany Jasper to buy his ingredients. I see her growing out of her condition with adolescence because she surprises me every day. Meeting a nice boy like Jasper is good for her too, because she'll go back to school and measure the boys she meets against him.

While Jasper cooks, Tanya paints the cutest stick figures over the door, welcoming families with kids until 9:00 pm. Once the "Masen's" sign is fixed in position, the exterior is done.

The meal convinces Carlisle and Emmett of Jasper's skills in the kitchen, and they agree to employ him until school resumes. Emmett states that Edward will have to approve the apprenticeship, but Jasper smiles like he has no doubt it will happen.

I look around this group, every one of them part of the pub in some way. With the music playing, it feels like something magical has happened here, something that will always give me the fondest memories of my first July in London.

* * *

When the phone rings and I see who is calling, I sing out to Alice to cut the vacuum cleaner before I answer it.

"Hellooooooo!"

" _Good afternoon."_ There's a smile in Edward's deep voice, and I squeal, finally hearing him.

"You sound like you, baby!"

" _Yeah, it doesn't take long to come back once you're breathing air."_

I want to picture what he's doing. "Are you still at sea?"

" _No, I'm already looking at Aberdeen in the distance. We still have to take a medical before they'll let us go, but the train doesn't leave until 8:45, so there's plenty of time."_

"You'll be here in the morning!"

Chuckling, he says, _"Have you moved in yet?"_

"I'm doing that right now."

" _Good. So what are the others doing today?"_

Grinning at his attempt to catch me, I look at the finished oak bar, its smooth glossy top a mirror Edward will love to polish as he talks to his customers.

To me, the bar is more beautiful because a man created it with love for his son. Its color reminds me of the creamed honey Mom used to spread on toast when I was a kid. In this light, it looks pale and earthy, not needing a vibrant color to stand out as a working piece of art.

Seriously, if Edward doesn't break down when he sees all this, I'll be surprised. The transformation is going to blow him away.

"Uh, nothing much, waiting for you to get back for direction."

" _Hmm. Will you still meet the train in the morning?"_

"Yep, I'll be the one jumping up and down."

He laughs, saying, _"I'm pretty sure I'll recognize you then."_

In a last push to get everything finished by Thursday evening, we exhaust ourselves, ending with a subdued celebration at the nearby pizza place. Emmett walks me back to the pub to collect his bag.

"You know... I think I'll stay tonight. I don't like you here by yourself."

"I'm going to be here half the time on my own, Em."

"Maybe not." When I frown, he says, "Does he really need to go back? He's still got money in the bank, and he knows he can make a living here."

Sighing, I respond, "I guess he's being cautious. It takes time to make a profit in a new business, doesn't it?"

He shrugs. "Why don't we set up the bar? Then she's ready to open."

"You mean now?" When he nods, I repeat what Carlisle said when I proposed this before. "Aren't we supposed to leave that job for Edward?"

"Let's do it anyway. You spent half your life in that staff bar. You know how he prefers to work."

I grin with a sudden burst of energy. "Okay, let's do it."

* * *

Waiting at Euston Station, I'm yawning. It was a big effort last night, washing and polishing glasses, finding homes for all the bottles of booze. We high fived and admired the glass sparkling under the lights, with the bottles lined up just how Edward likes them.

All he has to do now is make ice, tap the kegs, and put a sign up outside.

Emmett said goodnight and trudged upstairs to crash while I walked out the back to see the moon. Its fullness hypnotized me for a while, and then I couldn't fall asleep.

I'm at the platform too early but there was no way I was missing the arrival of the train. It feels like an anticlimax when I'm leaving so soon, but Edward wants to pretend I'm staying until we have to go to the airport on Sunday.

The train arrives on time, and I stand, nervous energy replacing fatigue, as I watch the yellow- fronted cab roll in. I take a few steps up the platform to the sound of brakes screeching as the navy cars pass by with their stripes of red and white. The words "Caledonian Sleeper" label each one.

I can't see Edward, only darkened squares of glass that look like portholes. This is not an open passenger train like I catch every day, nor is it anything like the high speed trains we caught in Europe. When it comes to a stop, passengers don't disembark immediately, probably organizing themselves and their luggage after a long night on the train.

A door opens, and he's the first to step down, a couple of cars ahead. He smiles when he sees me, but I don't jump up and down like I thought when I take in what the job is doing to him. He's ghastly pale like before. Seeing him on a computer screen under the artificial lights in their living quarters concealed the changes.

His bag hits the ground, and his arms envelop me. He breathes out like he's winded, sucking in air when he leans his cheek on my head. "Bella," he whispers, and I hug him, hardly aware of the passengers working their way around us, when his presence, his heartbeat, his body is what I crave.

He tips up my chin and runs the back of a finger along my jaw, following it with his eyes. "Your skin. It's silk."

A long and tender kiss follows, and my arms wrap around his neck as he pulls me closer. I come out of a swoon, breathing the scent of mint on his breath. "So are your lips," I murmur and softly moan when he kisses me again.

Then his fingers encircle my waist. "Let's get outta here before I do something I shouldn't." Regrettably, he's right. There is a time and place for us to reconnect, and it's not Euston Station. He picks up his bag and asks, "Can we walk? I need the sun."

We leave the station, arm in arm, as we stroll along the streets through the University College, and past the British Museum. Edward raises his face to the sun whenever we come out of the shade of the buildings, like he's absorbing its healing powers.

"You want some breakfast?" he asks when we see a cafe with tables and chairs on the street.

"Full English breakfast?" I read from the sign. "Yes, please." I _am_ starving, and it gives me a chance to stall him so Carlisle and Alice can get to the pub. Emmett, whom I left sleeping, wants to see Edward's reaction too, but I guess we'll have to wake him.

Edward holds my hand, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles and tracing my fingernails. He takes my index finger into his mouth, running his teeth over its pad.

"Are you hungry?" I ask, getting turned on just watching him, his green eyes devilish and boring into me. He doesn't stop to answer, merely raising his eyebrows.

"Ready to order?" the waiter asks, interrupting our blatant eye fucking.

"I'll have the full breakfast, eggs poached please." The waiter stands with his pen poised, and I add, "A cappuccino, thank you."

"Milkshake for me… uh... vanilla, thanks."

"No coffee?" I ask, querying his unusual breakfast order.

"My calcium's down. Way down. That reminds me." He reaches into the side of his bag and produces a soft gel capsule which he pops in his mouth.

"How bad is it?" I ask, concerned.

"A little worse than last time. I have to see a doctor in a week for another test."

I could take this opportunity to beg him not to dive again, but I'm worried in doing so, I'll unleash the fear I've built up about his safety, and I don't want to put him through that, not this weekend. He _is_ my boyfriend, but I can't tell him what to do with his life when he's been so supportive with everything I've thrown at him over the last few weeks.

He must see the workings of my mind, because he frowns and says, "It's only temporary. It won't kill me or anything." When I nod, he pulls his chair close and puts his arm around me. I lean on his shoulder and sigh.

The waiter brings our drinks and Edward stretches and asks, "So, what's Jasper like? I hear he slayed dinner the other night."

"He did. I just wonder how Liam will try to control him."

A frown appears on his forehead. "You met Liam? Why did you meet Liam?"

Jesus, I've fallen into his trap at the eleventh hour. Quickly, I think of an answer that's not a lie, but doesn't give anything away. "He came to look over his kitchen."

"Is the kitchen finished, Bella?" he asks, his eyes opening wide now that he's getting real information.

"Yeah, pretty much," I say as casually as I can, and he leans back, sucking on the straw of his milkshake and playing with my hair. I know it won't be long before he starts on me again, so I try to steer him in another direction. Thankfully, my breakfast arrives to help me.

"Did I mention that Emmett's been missing most nights since Tanya came to London?" Edward looks at me and smirks, then shakes his head slowly, like he's playing with me. "There's something going on between those two. Do they have history?"

"She was with someone else when we arrived on the island, and then he was with Rose. Good luck to him. He deserves a nice girl like Tanya."

"Oh, I agree."

He leans forward, ready to strike again. "So what _is_ happening at the pub, Bella? What else is done apart from the kitchen?"

"You want some egg?" Offering it to him on a bite-sized square of toast, I hold my hand under the fork. "I can't eat all this."

He lets me feed him, chewing a couple of times and swallowing. Then he kisses me, like he's drawn to my lips.

"How about the bed? Is it comfortable?" he purrs, rubbing his nose against my cheek.

"Mmm, it's made up, ready to go."

"Ready to go?" His lips brush my jaw, and his hand moves to my neck. Now he knows my pulse rate is going crazy for _him_. If I let this escalate any more, we're going to get kicked out of here.

"You want to see for yourself?" I ask softly. I know we won't be alone when we get there, but he'll be mine sometime today, the sooner the better.

"I'll get the bill," he offers after another kiss that leaves a throb beating between my legs as he goes inside.

He's got such a great ass.

It's almost embarrassing how many times he stops to kiss me on our short walk to the pub. I haven't approached the pub from this direction since the night of Angela's dance performance, and in my horny state, I'm just following along.

"Oh, shit," he says, coming to a stop and looking up and down the street. "They've painted it." Standing on the opposite side of the road, he's seeing the building as a pub for the first time. "Masen's," he whispers, reading the new sign.

"Come on," I beckon when he looks like he's going to stay there. This is just the beginning, baby.

Advancing nervously through the front door, he dumps his bag with a thud as his eyes drink in the changes. Emmett is in the kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal, and they wave like they saw each other yesterday.

"Why didn't I think of opening that wall?"

"You did," Carlisle announces. "We had to cut the hole to get your cabinets in."

"Oh... I'm sorry," he says, noticing the big painting and glancing at me. It's like he can't believe what he's seeing, and he leans over to read the signature.

"Tanya."

"Yeah, it's her gift to you. Isn't it incredible?"

Shaking his head slowly in amazement, he scans the walls for the rest of the paintings. Then his eyes land on the bar, and he covers his mouth with his hand. "Dad," he says softly, approaching it reverently and running his hands over its shiny top. He embraces Carlisle and says, "It's beautiful." Wiping his eyes, he asks, "Who stocked the bar?" Going around to the other side, he touches everything, opening fridges and holding the handles that operate the kegs. He doesn't move one single thing.

"Emmett and I did," I answer proudly.

Carlisle adds, "Bella worked hard here, Edward, and she helped me with Alice whenever I needed her."

"This is so perfect. Come here, my love." He takes me in his arms, and I feel his tears on my forehead. Now I start to get emotional. He pulls back, wiping his eyes again.

"Edward!" Alice screams and runs to her brother, hugging him.

"Hey Aleece," he says, holding her as Carlisle's face lights up.

"I have to show you everything!" Alice demands, dragging him out to the beer garden first, and working her way through all the changes. We follow as Edward asks questions excitedly when he realizes how much is finished. Then Emmett takes over, demonstrating the technology controlled from the tills.

Emmett turns up the volume on "Miss You" by the Rolling Stones, and Edward looks around, absorbing the atmosphere of his new space full of sound. "This is cool," he says, dancing with his hips as they sing together. It reminds me of a late night in the caravan with Emmett singing into a bottle of beer, and Edward stoned, dancing in boardshorts.

I want him so much right now I could explode.

"You cannot leave now," he says to Emmett.

"I'll stay if _you_ do," Emmett replies with a determined look on his face, like there's a battle going on between them. He goes upstairs, returning with his bag, and after a quick man hug, waves to us and walks out.

"We're off as well," Carlisle announces. "I'm taking my daughter to the zoo, and these are for you," he says, handing Edward an envelope.

"Dad," Edward says to his father. "Thank you."

"No, thank _you_ , son." My eyes well with tears as I watch them hug again. It's such a personal moment; I feel like an intruder.

"Hurry up, Dad!" Alice calls to her father from the front door.

Edward puts his arm around me, and we follow them out to the street. "Jesus, what a rush," he says, slowly expelling a big breath of air. I watch them for a while as he plays with my hair. "Are you… are you going to show me upstairs?"

Looking into his eyes, I see dark green fire. "You lock that door. I'll get the back." The front door clicks only a second before he's behind me, kissing my neck.

The sensation is too much, burning me, but I have to get him away from the prying eyes outside. "Come on." I take his hand in mine and lead him up the stairs. He smiles when he sees the door at the top.

"Private," he says, kicking the door shut behind him. I squeak when he picks me up and carries me into the bedroom. "It _is_ ready," he says, gazing at the bed, then he takes me to the bathroom, sighing when he sees it's finished too. Lowering me to the floor, he encircles me with his arms and plants his chin on my shoulder.

"Bed or bath?" I ask, turning around.

"Both," he says into a kiss that starts slowly and builds into something that feels like it's going to consume me. I'm into his jeans before I know it. I want to feel how hard he is, and he moans into my mouth when I grip him. He squeezes my ass and lifts me, laying me on our bed, then stands and yanks his t-shirt off. Edward is the very essence of man as I watch him take his jeans and boxers down.

He pulls my jeans off as I lift my t-shirt over my head. Then he slides my panties down my legs and stares.

"Stand, Bella… Stand and lean on the bed." I can't remember him being so commanding, but I do as I'm told willingly. He unhooks my bra and slides his hands underneath, squeezing my breasts and sucking my neck. Then one hand replaces two, fingers reaching across both nipples, while the other explores between my legs. Slowly, he delivers breathy words near my ear. "We need to get this first one out of the way."

He lines himself up and pushes inside. Closing my eyes, I know there's a mouth near mine, but I'm too incapacitated to ask for it. A thumb is teasing my nipple. A fingertip glides over my clit. A pulse is pounding somewhere inside as he starts thrusting with a sensual rhythm that will complete my undoing. When he's giving me everything I want all at once, I can't halt the sensations escalating and converging.

His mouth captures mine, and his tongue finishes me. He has to hold me up through the spasms as I cry out. I'm limp, down on my elbows, when he starts to hammer me.

Edward is right. We did need to get that first one out of the way.

There is something hedonistic about bathing together during the day, like a long summer vacation. The bath wash I bought at the Covent Garden market has a very English scent, and it fills the bathroom with a heady aroma that conjures dreams of dragonflies, dappled sunlight, and meadows of flowers.

Edward is behind me, leisurely soaping me with hands. I turn to kiss him, and because everything is so slippery, my whole body twists in his arms, and a wall of water cascades onto the floor. We both lean over to see where it goes, watching with relief as it heads for the drain, and he says, "We're going to have to work on that maneuver." I giggle, and he hums into a kiss.

"Bed," he says, pulling out the plug.

Hours later, I'm lying on my stomach, watching Edward's eyes as he moves the palm of his hand down my spine, over my ass, and back up again. I'm in a kind of delirium, somewhere between sex and sleep. He's touching me exactly like he ran his hand over the bar downstairs, and it feels like the biggest compliment anyone ever paid me.

"I forgot," he says, getting out of bed to open his bag. "I brought you someone from Scotland."

Out of a plastic shopping bag, Edward produces a stuffed toy, similar in size to Klaus. This one is a cow with horns sticking out sideways from its head, unlike Klaus' that grow upwards and curl back. Their hooves are almost identical, but this animal has a long tail. Klaus has more face where this guy has just a nose, but he has loads of character. I have to move some wild ginger hair to uncover his eyes.

"Thank you. What is he, Edward?" I ask, not wanting to embarrass myself by guessing wrong.

"Highland cow. They're everywhere in Scotland."

I hold him in front of me, pulling the hair on his head up so I can study him properly. He has really great ears. I marvel at how these artists create something incredible just by folding and stitching a tiny piece of fabric at the right place.

"Ye' want to come travelling with me and mah goat?" I ask, in a terrible attempt at a Scottish accent. Glancing at Edward, I hadn't realized he was grinning at me.

"Oh, aye. We'll see the green fade tae rocks when we enter the moonscape at the Spittal of Glenshee, an' we'll drink our whiskeh at the summit of Lochnagar." Edward speaks with such perfect guttural intonation, I'm fascinated hearing him talk as McMasen. I can clearly imagine the place he describes, where clouds swirl at rocky peaks to the haunting sound of bagpipes.

"You're really getting good at that," I say, touching his cheek.

"Two months with the lads will do it. I do like the accent now I understand it."

Turning the toy cow over I ask, "Is this a boy or a girl? I never thought to check if Klaus was female."

"The short horns, lassie. He's a bull."

"What are we going to call him?"

"Claymore," Edward offers quickly with a sparkle in his eyes.

"Like the sword?"

"Aye."

I just can't stop smiling. "Claymore and Klaus. I like it."

At five o'clock we're ready to leave for our evening out, and I feel sad when we're both in the same clothes we used to wear to Island Night. I haven't worn heels in forever, and the good dress has only been out of my bag a couple of times. Soon. Soon I'll be able to buy something new.

Edward always looks great, but the outfit of slacks and a dress shirt plays up his slim hips and wide shoulders. I made sure it was dry cleaned for tonight, and he thanked me for being so considerate.

He won't say where we are going, and I don't ask when he locks up, and we wait out front. He's been reminding me of this moondance evening for so long, I have many versions in my head, most of them on the banks of the Thames where the sky is big. A black cab pulls up, obviously pre-booked because the cabbie doesn't ask for our destination. When we cross the river over Tower Bridge and turn, I think I've guessed, but I keep it to myself.

We exit the cab, and I look up at the glass walls of the highest building in Europe. Edward smiles and guides me through the Shard's revolving doors, away from the throng of people handing in tickets. Our elevators are to the right. There's still a line here, and I'm so excited, never letting go of Edward's hand, while trying to act as if this is something we do all the time.

With only one button to press, we shoot up to level 32 in no time and walk out, looking down on the restaurant. The massive ceiling height and walls of glass make it look like we're in something hovering over the city. It's so dramatic with the view that we take time to enjoy it until Edward says we're going to "Hutong," pointing up the stairs.

It's like stepping into ancient China.

There is a wall of red lanterns to welcome us and more of them are scattered throughout the restaurant. Everything is made of wood: huge heavy doors with metal studs, intricate and darker decorative panels, tables and chairs. A tree with its canopy reaching the ceiling has hundreds of rectangles, like red bookmarks, hanging from its branches. They sway slowly in the air as people walk past. There is so much to look at, it takes my attention away from the city below us.

The restaurant is only just opening, and after waiting in line for five minutes, they ask if we'd like to go to the Shanghai Bar at the other end. As we approach, I appraise its concrete sides and timber top, and I like Edward's far better.

Looking through the list of cocktails, Edward points to the words "shiitake mushroom" and "squid ink" appearing in the ingredients of some of the drinks. We abandon that idea and order champagne instead, taking a glass each over to the view.

"Welcome back," I say, touching my glass to his.

"That was some welcome," he responds, kissing me gently. "Best day ever."

"And it's not over yet."

"Did you know the moon will rise before sunset tonight?" I just look at him. It _is_ the reason why we're celebrating tonight. "And it's a blue moon."

I don't understand the significance. "The moon will be blue?"

"No, it means two full moons in one month. It only happens every few years."

"How do you know this stuff?"

"Boredom, mostly," he answers, putting his arm around my waist. This would be a perfect opportunity to tell him I don't want him to leave me again, but how can I when I'm about to leave _him_? I promised we wouldn't discuss my pending departure, so there's nothing I can say. "Can you imagine what it would take to run this place?"

"Is this the kind of thing you aspire to?" I ask, wondering how big his long-term dreams are.

"No. I was thinking about the logistics of bringing everything up and taking it all back down."

"Oh, yeah," I reply, looking down on the Thames and Tower Bridge. "I think the view would be worth it."

"Your table is ready," a young man announces, and we follow him back to where we started. Edward is particularly pleased when we're seated by the window.

London spreads out before us, dotted with iconic buildings. The Olympic Stadium, the Gherkin Building, and the Eye give the city balance. They represent a future of hope amongst the great history of the London Tower and its bridge, St. Paul's Cathedral, Big Ben and Westminster Abbey.

Trying to take our eyes off the city and study the menu is difficult, especially when Edward is constantly pointing out things. He's animated and chatty this evening, and it's so wonderful to hear his voice.

We almost choose the signature menu and then improvise our own: Dim Sum platter, Kung Po fried prawns, Red Lantern crispy soft-shell crab, Sichuan pork belly, mixed vegetables, and Hutong's spicy fried rice. My mouth is watering by the time he finishes ordering.

Edward asks the waiter about the name of the restaurant, and we find out hutongs are alleyways and the neighborhoods created by them, mainly associated with the city of Beijing. He says we must visit them if we ever go to northern China. The man is very nice to us, never making us feel like we are taking up his time.

When he leaves, Edward wants the full story of how the pub transformed, saying he never suspected how much they'd completed because he was following its progress on his credit card charges. He knew what had been delivered, but he thought he would have weeks of work ahead installing everything himself. When I tell him they worked almost every day as Emmett started to drive the project, Edward starts to rub his eyes.

"He's a good friend, Edward."

"Yeah, he is… the best," Edward responds emotionally, and then smiles, taking my hand. "You know he sent me a message, asking how I thought you'd handle him with Tanya?"

"What did you say?"

"I told him to ask you."

"Well, he never did. They still think they're in hiding."

"Just let them play their game," he says, looking out again. He's got a look on his face like he's up to something, but it won't involve me since I'm leaving on Sunday. He looks down at the hand I'm now squeezing and frowns. "I love you," he adds as if he knows it's all I want to hear.

By the end of the meal, I feel like I've finally perfected the art of using chopsticks. Each dish came out precisely timed so we had a chance to breathe before the next surprise. I cannot even look at the menu for dessert. Everything has been great - the food, the service, the place, and especially the company. As the sky starts to darken, I'm really enjoying the nighttime city come to life when Edward wants to leave. A little disappointed, I don't argue because I know this date involves a dance, and I have no idea where he is planning it.

We both use the bathroom before we go, and Edward is waiting for me with a sheepish look on his face when I come out.

When he starts to chuckle, I ask, "What happened?"

Walking down the stairs, he answers, "I have to bring Emmett back here. The urinal is… in the middle of a wall of glass… so you're peeing... at the view. I took a photo if you want to see."

"No, thanks. Only a man would design something like that. Men and toilets are… just weird."

Edward laughs again and kisses my head when we wait for the elevator, watching the numbers change rapidly. Back on the ground, he steers us to the right instead of out of the building and produces what looks like the envelope Carlisle gave him. He smiles, and I know he's loving this night of surprises. When we join the line, I quietly squeal and put my arm around him, realizing we're going all the way to the top.

This elevator is very different from the one that took us to the restaurant. Initially in darkness, the ceiling lights up, displaying a video of stars. A monitor shows the floor number, and the guide tells us we're going up to level 33. As we rise, the ceiling shows all kinds of circles, the inner dome of St. Paul's, and other buildings and things I don't recognize. They look like spaceships above us, especially since the music sounds like it's straight out of Star Wars.

At level 33, we walk around a short corridor to another elevator, and a high-pitched alarm sounds until the doors close. Now the ceiling shows designs, some of them drawings of Shard tower itself, flying over us. The music this time is more heavenly. It's all over again in thirty seconds when the monitor shows level 68, and the doors part.

We wander around more glass, more amazing views, much like the lower restaurant downstairs, only at double the height. Then Edward leads me up several flights of stairs.

The first thing I realize is we're level with a plane coming in, and we're out in the air, shielded only at the sides by differing heights of glass. I see a flashing light on top of a skyscraper, probably the highest point in the city once, now dwarfed by the Shard. Edward is standing beside me, holding my hand and taking it all in.

There are a lot of people up here, and some are sitting on the floor next to the glass. "Over there." Edward points to a section away from the people clinging to the view of the sunset. "There it is."

Unlike the rich gold of the sun enveloping one end of the viewing area, this side is cooler, and the moon looks soft against the weakening daylight and blue sky. "Our moon, Edward."

Edward looks down at me with love in his eyes and holds my hand to his chest. "No, you're my earth, and I'm your moon. I'll never break away from your pull even if you no longer wanted to attract me. I'll circle you forever, my love."

That deserves a real kiss. I'm supposed to be the writer, but he comes up with these things that move me with their beauty and soul. "I love you," I respond, feeling it more right now than ever.

"Definitely best day ever," he says, sliding his arm around my waist, kissing me as we take the first steps of our dance, oblivious to everyone else around us.

And it's a marvelous night for a moondance.

 _ **Thanks for reading xo**_


	19. Chapter 19

_**Sorry, all I can say is it took this long to control a chapter where so much was going on at once. Thank you to Nic, VampyreGirl86 and especially Hadley for putting in the time to help tame it. You girls are amazing! I hope the chapter's length satisfies you after the wait.**_

 _ **A couple of translations:**_

 _ **Toff - British slang for a person from an aristocratic background, the landed gentry, someone who exudes superiority. In a country where accents are varied and extreme, a toff's speech is a much more restrained version of "The Queen's English".**_

 _ **Chips - In Britain and the Commonwealth, chips are fries, only thicker, a staple dish and side order for hundreds of years. You can still buy packets of chips at the supermarket or gas station, thinly sliced and crunchy, but they're generally referred to as crisps.**_

* * *

 **Chapter 19**

I wake to the sound of drawers opening and a view of my naked boyfriend's ass. It rivals the perfection of Michelangelo's "David" we saw in Florence. Watching him bend and twist, my mind floods with images of Edward in bed, bathed in the light of the full moon, at the end of the most romantic night of my life. Enjoying a minute just to look at him, I know I still want more.

As I stretch my joints into position and yawn, he looks at me and smiles. Scratching his cheek, he asks, "Was this wardrobe here yesterday?"

"It's another gift from Tanya. She brought too much furniture from Canterbury."

"I didn't even notice it." He comes back to bed and kisses me. "I must have been focused on you." With a mischievous look, he lifts my arm and bites me gently below my armpit, working his way down. "Is there anything else I missed? What about down here?" Squeezing the top of my thighs, he makes me holler when it tickles.

Then he looks at my chest and exhales. "When they jiggle like that, Jesus." Our eyes meet, and he watches my reaction to his tongue, teasing my nipples until they're proud and hard. As gentle sucking turns into ardent open-mouthed kisses, I wrap a leg around him, grabbing a handful of his hair.

His hand roams down over my hip and between my legs. Circling my entrance sensually, he explores with his long talented fingers. We both moan as he slides them in and out, and his thumb seeks out my most sensitive places.

"You're wet," he groans, like I've been any other way during the last twenty-four hours, and he maneuvers his hips into position, ready to take me. I press my calf onto his ass and wrap my arms around him in welcome. He covers my mouth with his, and I cry out a stifled moan as he grinds on me.

Suddenly, someone is knocking on the door at the top of the stairs.

"Edward?" Alice's muffled voice brings me out of my rapture, and I panic and squirm.

Edward lifts his head and holds me in place as he answers, "Yes, Aleece?"

"Dad said to tell you Liam is coming over."

"Is it locked?" I ask, terrified she's going to come in here.

He raises his eyebrows, slowly sliding his cock across my clit, and then his eyes lock on my heaving chest. "Tell him okay," he calls back, kissing my neck when we hear her descend the stairs.

"Edward, please. Now." His sister is forgotten when he enters me and moans. He circles his hips with each thrust, and the sensation soon becomes a whirlpool, sucking me in. I'm getting lost in a fantasy of lethal green eyes and an explosion of tawny hair that now tickles in the best kind of way.

Just as I clutch the sheet in my fist, there's more knocking on the door.

"Edward?"

"Yup," he answers, closing his eyes and slowing his strokes.

"Dad also said Liam wants to meet Jasper."

He calls out to her, "I'll call him, Aleece."

"Are you coming downstairs soon?"

"Won't be long," he answers, and we wait for the sound of her leaving. Instead, we hear her trying to open the door.

"Can I come in?"

His eyes bulge. "Do they have a key?" I shake my head and say I don't know. "No, love, I'm getting in the shower!" He yells loudly, warning her.

"Oh… okay." As we hear her tripping down the stairs, Edward drops his forehead to mine in defeat. I can feel his heart pounding in his chest.

"Sorry."

"She's not going to give up, you know," I say in frustration, trying to slow my breathing. "She misses her brother, and I had you all to myself yesterday. Just think, when they leave, we don't have to worry about noise."

"Okay," he replies, with an attempt at a smile, and kisses me softly. "But have a shower with me." He sighs when he gets up and helps me out of bed.

"Why do you call her 'Aleece' now?"

Turning the shower on, he answers, "I didn't realize I was. Weird. That's how Mom always pronounced her name. Looks like I'm falling back into the old family ways."

"I'm very glad to hear that," I say, soaping his chest with the fresh scent of bath wash, overjoyed he's healing from the years away from them.

* * *

It's no surprise when Emmett arrives with Tanya and Jasper, and I make sure to give him a knowing look. Edward hugs Tanya and thanks her for everything she's given him. They stand together, studying the painting of the tightrope artist, and she lets him know her side of the bargain. Edward says he would have asked for her advice in choosing the art for the pub anyway, and he's honored to have her paintings hanging here.

She asks if she can book the pub privately for a showing of her work, and Edward looks at Emmett.

"Everyone's doing it, Ed. It's guaranteed income. You should think about themed evenings as well, like Island Nights." Edward tilts his chin and nods slowly as if his brain is alive with ideas.

Jasper is talking to Alice, and the warmth seems to drain from Edward when Tanya introduces him.

"You understand you're only on trial here?" Edward asks, with an officious tone.

Jasper nods, only an inch shorter than Edward, but he looks like a child beside him.

"What's the first thing you'll learn, Jasper?"

"Uh…" he answers, stumbling. "I don't…"

"Answer clearly with your voice. 'Yes, chef. Yes, sir.' In a loud environment, you need to communicate you understand your instruction."

"Yes, sir."

"Very good."

Jasper's eyes skip away nervously, and it's only because I know Edward's mannerisms so well that I catch the sidelong glance and see what he's doing. He's making sure Jasper knows who's boss from the start.

"Where did you get this painting?" We all turn to see Liam standing in the doorway.

"Tanya Denali is a friend of mine, Liam. She's an artist," Edward answers, looking smugly at Tanya.

"No, she's a genius," Liam responds, engrossed in the huge piece of art.

"Thank you, Liam, I'm Tanya." She offers her hand, and he looks mildly embarrassed.

"Nice bar, too," he adds with a look of wonder, which turns into a frown of realization. "Are we opening soon?"

"Yes," Carlisle and Emmett answer in unison. Edward looks at them as if this is news to him.

"Do you have your on-license approval yet?" Tanya asks.

Carlisle nods. "Yes, eleven until eleven, extending responsibly to midnight if you choose."

"Thank God you're not doing breakfast. It will kill you," Tanya advises. I must remember to ask how her father is.

"When can you start?" Edward asks Liam.

"Anytime. I'm still working casual. Where's my apprentice?"

"That's me, Chef!" Jasper answers in his clearest voice. Edward runs his hand over my back and winks at me.

"He's on trial, Liam," Edward adds, reinforcing his authority.

"Ah, we'll sort him out. So, are we stocking the kitchen today?"

We all look at each other because it's the only thing stopping the pub from opening. Edward's eyes lock on mine without any expression, and I know he's asking for my opinion.

 _Do I want him to myself until I have to leave? Of course I do. Do I want him earning money here so he doesn't go back to the depths of the North Sea? Yes, more than anything._

I smile enthusiastically. "Bartenders?"

He's still staring at me when he responds. "Laurent's available. Mike can't start for another week, but then I'll have to work all day tomorrow if I can't find someone else, and I _am_ taking you to the airport." He shakes his head in frustration, looking at Emmett.. "An experienced bar manager and I can't use him without breaking the law."

"What about Angela?" I offer when I see his confidence fading. "I know she wants more shifts while she's on college break."

"She did offer," Carlisle reminds us.

After a nod, Edward says, "Okay, call her and see if she can start tonight, then I'll get onto Laurent. Tell her white dress shirt, black pants, and no jeans."

Five minutes later, I'm in Edward's arms. We have two bartenders starting today and a chef madly writing a list.

"Give me half an hour," Liam says, a nervous edge in his voice. "I want to make sure I don't miss anything. I can place forward orders today, but we're going to have to go out and buy what we need for tonight."

"Can I help?" I ask, having no idea how much we need to buy.

Edward holds me firm against him and groans. "I don't even have a uniform."

"Then what are you standing here for?" Carlisle asks. After a brief kiss, Edward hurries off.

"I'll help you, Bella," Tanya offers.

"Tell me what you need," Emmett adds.

I feel like I should do something constructive while we're waiting, and since I haven't updated the blog for a couple of days, it's a good time to reveal all the changes happening.

Writing as Klaus, I talk about Angel's imminent departure to apply for her visa, asking for positive thoughts for a speedy return. Happily, I proclaim the return of Diver and describe the romantic date at the Shard. I introduce Claymore, our highland cow, who's come down from Scotland with Diver to join our adventure.

Then I announce the surprise opening of Masen's tonight and ask if anyone in London would like to come meet us. I describe Masen's as a welcoming pub and bistro with free WiFi, where they can enjoy conversation, art, drinks and good food in a central location.

I've actually had an idea brewing in my head for a while now, promoting the pub as a backpacker friendly place. People are always looking for somewhere comfortable with free internet to relax and catch up on social media and email. Since I'll be doing most of my writing here, the travelers who come in will give me ideas for the magazine, places I want Maggie to send me to review. It fits with her philosophy to keep _Zipline's_ content current.

I also need the latest information on London as I've only spent a handful of days as a tourist here. Since I can't work for Edward, this could be my way of contributing to his income and success.

Walking across the road, I take a picture of the pub and upload it with the address and a blog entry that's full of optimism. You just never know. The online world is a funny place, and there could be people reading who might share the information with those already here in London.

We all leave together but soon split up. Liam, Jasper, Carlisle, and Emmett go off to buy fresh produce, while Tanya, Alice, and I have a list that contains items and stores I've never heard of, but we don't have to go far.

I ask Tanya about her father, and she says he will never fully recover, but they are confident he's out of danger if he can stick to his new lifestyle. Hoping she will open up about Emmett, I tell her about last night and say the two of them must join us next time we go to the Shard. She just nods and smiles briefly, and I wonder if their reluctance to declare their relationship is more about Emmett leaving than a misguided fear of upsetting me.

Our group is the first to arrive back at the pub, laden with our purchases, and a woman is waiting outside, who introduces herself as Liam's mother, Siobhan. In an Irish accent, she tells us she has brought his knives, uniform, and a bundle of aprons. Seeing them takes me back to the island's laundry where the head woman meticulously soaked, bleached, washed, and starched the uniforms for the hotel's chefs.

Siobhan is slightly emotional when she looks around the pub and explains that she and Liam's father ran a bistro together until he died last year. She is impressed with the workmanship, asking us who the gifted craftsman is, just as the others walk in, and Carlisle hears her praise.

It's nice to see him enjoy her compliments. I haven't seen Carlisle interact privately with someone closer to his age before, and it gives me hope that this wonderful man won't be alone for the rest of his life. I can't stop smiling as I stare at the two of them talking together.

When Edward's strong arms capture me from behind, I hum. I'm torn because his touch makes me want him physically, yet I'm riding a wave of excitement over the opening of his pub.

"You got what you needed?" I ask, turning to face him, surprised when he looks forlorn.

"I don't know why we're doing this today. I just need you."

Moving his hair over his ears, I say, "There are many reasons. You know these people are ready to see the results of their hard work, and none of us want you risking your life diving. We want you earning money here, now."

"Bella," he whispers and kisses me deeply. I fold my arms around his neck and return his kiss, hoping he'll feel all the love I have for him. We're in a cocoon until someone clears their throat, and I realize it's gone quiet. They're staring at Edward's hands, squeezing my ass and pulling me onto him. Alice's eyes are wide with shock, and I blush as he gives me one final kiss and a huge smile.

Suddenly everyone is purposeful and busy. Alice is stuck in her spot, still staring until we smile at her, then she goes and breaks out the vacuum cleaner. Liam asks Siobhan if she'll stay to help him set up the kitchen like the old man did, and she happily starts unpacking while he instructs Jasper on prepping the vegetables.

Edward goes upstairs to change while Tanya wipes down her tables, and Emmett taps the kegs. I join him, pleased when I note that someone had thought to turn on the ice maker earlier. Feeling useless, I go upstairs to see how Edward is doing. He's rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt.

Kissing his jaw, I murmur, "Let me do that for you." I'm still getting over the passionate kiss that reminded me we were interrupted us this morning. I want him too much as he stands in front of me in a white dress shirt and black pants that hug every fine feature I've grown to love. "You look gorgeous."

Instead of kissing me, he asks, "Why is there nothing of yours in our wardrobe?"

The question makes my heart clench as the reality we've been avoiding is now out in the open. Trying to answer casually, I say, "You know I have to take everything with me, just in case."

"Then Klaus and Claymore stay, Bella. You have to come back for _them_."

Touching his hair, I'm worried he's losing faith in me. "No, I'll be coming back for _you_ , Edward Masen. If something happens, I will apply for another job. Please don't doubt me."

Sighing, he says, "I can't bear this." I can hear deep emotion in his strangled voice, and I take the opportunity to remind him there are two people involved in his decision to keep diving.

"Now you know what it was like when you left me for a month, only I won't be in danger."

"I'm sorry." Taking my arms and wrapping them around his neck, he touches my cheek and kisses me gently. "I love you."

"I love you, and that's why I'll be back before you know it."

He squeezes me tight, rocking me as the sad moment passes, and we soak up the intimacy of physical contact.

There are loud voices downstairs, and Carlisle calls out for Edward, who smiles and says, "That will be Laurent. You're really going to like this guy."

When we come down, everyone is gathered together, and Carlisle beckons us to join them.

"We're taking a photo," he says, handing his phone to Laurent, who makes us all scoot in close together. Edward crosses his arms around my neck for the picture.

Laurent is young and startlingly beautiful. His skin is dark, and he wears his hair in short messy dreadlocks. He takes several photos and then grins at Edward as he hands the phone back. With the whitest smile I've ever seen, he confidently introduces himself, and I note his strange accent.

"You're wondering why I speak like this, aren't you?" I'm embarrassed that my face has given me away, but he smiles as if he hasn't taken it personally. "Everyone does. My parents are Jamaican, but I can talk like a toff if I want. Whatever you need."

"Just be yourself," Edward offers with a laugh and takes him to the business side of the bar, showing him the layout. They stand at the till together where it's obvious Laurent knows what he's doing, and Edward looks up at me excitedly. Smirking, I can see women flocking to Masen's for more than just drinks and consider taking their photo for the blog until I'm hit with a possessive jealousy that makes me reject the idea.

"Bella, can I talk to you?" Tanya asks, tipping her chin toward the beer garden. "Emmett?" He takes her hand as we walk out back.

Sitting opposite each other at one of the tables, Emmett starts. "You know why we're here. We don't want to hide anymore, but we need to make sure you don't hate us."

"Hate you? Why would I hate you? I adore you both, and I love you two as a couple."

Emmett reaches across the table and takes my wrist gently. "Rose was your friend and it looks like…" Glancing at Tanya, he says, "We didn't plan for this to happen." I can tell he has a heavy heart I must fix.

"Em, my friend left us a long time ago. I don't know why or when, and maybe I never really knew her, but it's better around here without her."

"Do you think you'll run into her in Seattle?" Tanya asks compassionately.

I shake my head since I haven't thought about the possibility. Rose will have to start teaching at the beginning of September, so I guess she could be back there already.

"There hasn't been a peep from her since she went to Spain, so I doubt she even thinks of me anymore."

"I hope she's okay," Tanya says, taking Emmett's hand. Smiling, I really admire this trait in Tanya. She doesn't waste time on anything negative, and that's why someone like Emmett snatched her up so quickly. I completely get it.

When a familiar guitar sound comes through the speakers, I realize I'm being summoned. He's playing "Brown Eyed Girl" by Van Morrison, and I automatically stand.

"Yeah, I do, too," I agree, half-heartedly, but it's time to forget Rose now and get to my man.

Edward grins when he sees me, and I clap in time and dance up to him. He takes me in his arms, burying his face in my hair, swaying and moving us around. We sing the words together, and when the song ends, he kisses me and asks if I'm ready. Little does he know I've already blogged about the opening, and I wonder if I should have asked him first.

His phone pings with a text, and he reads it, smiling and shaking his head. "Do you remember Jack, the guy with the dog who lives up the road? I left him a message, inviting him to the opening. He's in his seventies, so I didn't expect him to reply, but he just informed me he's on his way. Now I want him to be the first person we serve since he drank here before they closed."

"Oh wow, that would be cool. I have to get a photo. I'm writing about the pub in my blog. Is that okay?"

Nodding, he slides an arm around my waist. "I'm so glad you're here with me for this."

Our eyes meet, and it feels like there's no one else here but us again. This time, I initiate the kiss, and Edward lifts me, humming with his strong arms supporting me.

Carlisle comes over and says quietly, "You have customers, son." There are now three older gentlemen gathered in front of the painting. Jack's terrier is lying down outside the door.

Edward lowers me and says, "Keep it light, Laurent." Laurent nods, and I gather he's choosing the music when he presses the screen of the till, and Hozier starts playing "Someone New." He turns it down in respect for our first customers.

"Jack!" Edward greets him with a beaming smile. "Come in. This one's on me." As soon as three beers are on the bar, Jack hands over an envelope, and Edward's jaw drops as he looks at the photos inside. "Dad?"

Carlisle joins them and soon wears the same amazed expression as Edward, calling Alice to come and see. When Edward beckons me over, I realize what we're looking at. Somehow, Jack has kept fifty-year-old photos of the old pub in good condition. In black and white, they're a snapshot of being here in another time, when everyone smoked and men wore suits, some of them garishly striped.

There is one woman in the photos, part of a couple, wearing a high-necked, long-sleeved, shapeless velvet dress, in what must have been mini length. I know it was considered outrageous at the time, but today it's quite modest. She completes the simple outfit with suede boots, thick bangs, and hair that falls straight to her shoulders. Her male companion is smiling with his hand on her shoulder.

The bar is in a similar position, but it's smaller and boxed in above so it looks more like a booth than a bar. Opening the wall to the kitchen has made the biggest difference to the space though. Masen's is now open and airy, where it looked closed-in before.

"Jack, if I promise to take care of them, can I borrow these and have them scanned?" Edward asks.

"No, these are for you to keep, Edward. I have a second set," Jack replies. "That's me." He points to the man with the woman. "The day we were engaged in 1964."

"These were taken before I was born," Carlisle responds, looking emotional. He wraps his arms around Alice and pulls her into his chest. "And that's my father behind the bar."

The bartender wears a similar outfit to Edward's right now, only he added a tie back then. Edward looks sharp by today's standards with his top button open.

"Oh." Edward looks up, seeing Laurent serving a customer with two others waiting. "What can I get you?" It's raining outside, and in London, people find the nearest pub for shelter. When Edward looks at me, I see his delight in serving people in his own place. I really wish I could join him on the other side of the bar.

By four, there's been a steady stream of people coming and going. Since the rain didn't last long, I'm not sure what is bringing them in now, but the atmosphere is growing with the sound of people talking and laughing. I recognize a group who have returned, using their smartphones and iPads at their table, and I check the blog, seeing only comments wishing us good luck for the opening.

Laurent's choice of music has been amazing, and now there are music videos playing on one of the TVs while the other one shows a variety of live sports. Everyone who comes in seems to stop at our crowd-drawing tightrope artist, and some of them then take their drinks and linger over the walls, discussing the meaning of Tanya's other paintings.

"Did you post anything about today's opening, Tanya?" I ask out of curiosity.

"Not yet. Do you think I should?" she asks.

"Yes, you should, but I'm trying to work out what's bringing people in here. I posted on my blog, but no one has come in asking for Angel."

Looking over at Edward, I see him polishing his bar, laughing over a conversation with his latest customer.

"Most of them are probably locals, checking out the new pub. It could be the smell of food, though. It's making me hungry."

There _have_ been delicious aromas coming out of the kitchen, but I haven't wanted to go in there since Liam asked Alice to leave. Just as I'm thinking of her, Alice is at the counter, taking a tray from Liam which she brings over.

"Liam wants you to choose which one you like best," she says, offering a selection of mini-burgers, cut in half. "Beef or chicken. Take a napkin."

I'm suddenly starving, and we help ourselves to both before Alice takes the tray to the end of the bar. The beef is incredible, with a strong flavor of onion, tomato, and a spice I can't place. It's so tender, slightly pink in the center, with melted cheese, and the salad is simple, a perfect complement when all the flavor is in the meat. Eating it slowly and savoring it, I think I've already made my choice before I taste the chicken, but it's a surprise, an explosion of flavors, reminiscent of a pungent coconut curry, trapped inside a burger. The salad is just cucumber and lettuce.

Alice comes back for our votes, and Tanya and Emmett both give the chicken a nod, but I say both. One of each would be an incredible meal with or without chips on the side. I could probably eat this every day. We watch her return and see Jasper's arms rise in the air, like he's won something. Liam shakes his head and instructs him to keep working.

Without anything to do, Alice now looks bored, getting out of the way when Liam carries his blackboard out front, written up with the evening's menu.

I am so proud of this girl who has given up her summer vacation to come here and help her brother. The days she has spent away from the pub have been few but she hasn't complained, not in front of us anyway. We still witness her quirks, but she's so lovable that nobody cares anymore that she's different. She's just Alice, someone I've grown to love.

When the song changes, I see her moving to the music as she watches the screen. It's a new remake of "Sugar How You Get So Fly" sung by a teenager with a mass of curly hair, and I want to see if she'll dance. Going over and taking her hands, she goes along with me, smiling when she understands it's okay to just let go and dance in public. I look over at Edward whose eyes are blazing right into me. His smirk makes me stare back at him, and I sway my hips provocatively.

He's still watching when we sit down with Tanya, and he curls a finger for me to come over. Leaning forward on the bar, he asks, "Coke, in a big glass, no ice?" When I smile without answering, he takes a step back, crosses his arms, and looks me over before asking, "Or maybe gin and port, with blended strawberries?"

I laugh, enjoying the flirtation. "You remember."

"Yeah, I remember, especially the first time you came to my bar in your pajamas. That's a highlight." He takes my hand and rubs his thumb over my knuckles.

Glancing at the man Laurent is serving, far enough away not to hear, I say, "You were pretty scary in those days."

"Was I really?" he asks with a single raised eyebrow.

"Yes, dangerously attractive."

"And now?"

"Cullen or Masen, the attraction is still the same, and by the way, you need to stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" he asks, as if I don't know what's going on in his dirty mind.

"Like it's been too long since you…"

"I don't need to ask, do I? You're Angel, and this is your Diver?"

We're leaning so close that we jump when the voice interrupts us. One second, my whole world is Edward's sexual energy, and the next, the very thing I sought by blogging this morning is right in front of me. It's an American girl, with three friends standing back, who smile when she says, "It's them!"

Edward serves them all drinks, and they stand around for a while, excitedly telling us they've been in London all week and how much they love it here. When Edward has to look after another customer, I ask them to sit down and tell me where they've been so far. Unfortunately, it's the start of their trip, and while they recommend several places I've never visited in London, they mostly ask me questions. A Coke appears in front of me, but Edward only stays for a minute before he has to return to the bar.

Two couples are talking to Edward, who points me out. They bring their drinks and ask if they can pull over another table. These vivacious New Zealanders launch into a long recount of their two-month trip, talking over each other as they tell us the crazy things that happened to them. I'm killing myself laughing and wishing I'd met them in Europe when Angela arrives to start her shift, waving but heading straight for the bar.

That means it must be six o'clock already. The last two hours have flown by. Edward confirms it when he comes over, gently massaging the back of my neck and asking if I want him to order me something for dinner. Looking into the kitchen, I see Carlisle, Alice, Siobhan, Emmett and Tanya eating together. When I stand, he tells me to sit down, that he'll let me know when it's ready, so I thank him and ask for one of each of the mini-burgers with a few chips.

It prompts the others to ask what's on the menu, and Edward rattles off the other choices: steak, herb and parmesan chicken schnitzel, and battered fish, all served with salad and chips. I'm not sure what Liam normally cooks, but he's done well on short notice today because I can see people devouring their food.

The Kiwi couples go to the bar to order their meals, and Laurent comes over, collecting empty glasses. One of the American girls insensitively asks him what nationality he is, and he says he's from Tottenham. When she doesn't get the subtlety, he softens and says it's about ten miles north of here, adding that his parents were born in Jamaica, using a more smooth version of his second-generation accent.

"I'd love to go to Jamaica. What's it like?" she asks.

"It's laid back, but not lazy," he answers, stacking more glasses.

"And what are the Jamaicans like?"

With a flash of white teeth and a glance my way, he answers, "Parents are strict. They insist on good manners, like always respecting your mudda and taking your shoes off before you come in her house. In fact, Jamaican men make the best boyfriends. We're very clean, and we all cook, sing, and dance. We love big curves on our women, and they expect us to bully them in the bedroom."

I try not to react when I see her throat as she swallows. After he sends her a gorgeous smile, he walks away with a tower of glasses, and her friend leans on her to bring her back to earth. She sighs like she's fallen in love as her friends all giggle around her.

Edward is right. I already like this guy. He must know he's attractive, but I didn't get the sense he was being rude or sleazy, more like he was answering her question honestly.

The Kiwis return with more drinks, and I'm curious as to how they found the pub. When I ask if they follow my blog, they say they saw it on _Wander Wall_ , the magazine James works for.

I check it out on my phone and see he's still reblogging my posts. He hasn't dismantled the links yet, but rather than feeling hostility, I'm glad because his audience is far greater than mine. Good old James. In being an unscrupulous asshole, he's doing us a favor, and until I'm locked in with _Zipline,_ I'll take advantage of it. Updating, I say we already have travelers here from the U.S. and New Zealand and ask anyone who has time to come join us.

"Bella?" Edward stands next to me, holding our food, and I feel like I've ignored him after encouraging him to open on the busiest day of the week. Right now, I don't feel like much of a girlfriend.

"Sit down with us!" one of the Kiwi men offers enthusiastically.

Edward looks uncomfortable. "I want some alone time with my girl. She's going home tomorrow. Can we go upstairs, baby?"

"Of course." I want to make up for neglecting him, and I climb the stairs, aware I'll be long gone this time tomorrow. We go through the door, and I lock it behind me. It really sounds like there's a pub below us now. Music, voices, and the clatter of drinking and eating compete to fill the space.

Edward is just standing there, looking lost, holding a plate with four mini-burgers and a few chips. I sit on the bed and pat the spot beside me. He sits down with the plate, and I take it, placing it away from us. Turning to him, I run my fingers along his jaw and let my hand slide into his hair. He closes his eyes, and I kiss him softly, near but not on his lips.

"I love you," I whisper, and he opens his eyes, his mouth turning up into a tender smile. He surrounds me with his arms and pulls me into a kiss full of emotion. The passion we've held back all day takes over, and I feel his erection straining for me, a whole handful of lust.

Before I know it, I'm undoing his belt, crazy to hold it and see it, taste it. It's mine, and I want it.

"Open your shirt," I tell him, and he looks shocked.

"Bella, I only have a fifteen-minute break. We can't."

Getting on my knees, I pull his zipper down and smile. "If I can't blow you in fifteen minutes, then I'm doing something wrong."

"Fuck," he says, eyes blazing, unbuttoning his shirt before I can even get his pants and underwear down. I know every part of this man's body, and I don't need direction, apart from the expressions on his face and the tension in his thighs. As his fingers feed into my hair, I feel powerful, controlling him when he usually takes charge of me. The look he gives me when he knows I'm going to swallow is almost enough to make me come.

The burgers are still good even though they've cooled. As Edward leaves with a smile on his face, I know I've given him something he'll take back to work, a dirty secret only we'll share and something he'll remember when I'm gone tomorrow.

I have to change my panties before I can follow him down, surprisingly fulfilled by an act that didn't lead to my orgasm. Edward glances up at me while he pulls a beer, and the look we share is pure possession. He's mine, and I'm his.

A group of Canadians arrive around 7:00, having seen the blog on James' website, and take over the beer garden. Three German girls come in, specifically to practice their English. They give me good first-hand knowledge of a Germany I never saw on our bus tour.

Other people walk in, following the aroma or music, and stay long after dinner. Masen's becomes their Saturday night out. I'm sure it's the congenial and welcoming atmosphere these three seasoned bartenders create. Edward works the customers with conversation and cocktails, Laurent's music makes the crowd move and sing, and Angela quietly keeps the drinks flowing. Between them, they encourage people to stay.

Carlisle leaves just before 9:00 with Alice, offering to walk Siobhan to her train. Liam closes the kitchen half an hour later, having run out of food, and Emmett and Tanya take Jasper with them. There is still a crowd, not out of control, but lively. Edward calls last drinks at 10:45, and we finally close at 11:30. I'm teary when I hug Angela, thanking her for everything, and she leaves with Laurent, both of them confirming they'll be back for their shifts in the morning. We'll already be gone by then.

The bar is depleted of stock but clean and tidy. The kitchen is spotless and ready for tomorrow. I offer to clean the bathrooms, but Edward won't let me, so I sweep the floors. He comes out, throwing his gloves in the trash, taking the broom from me, and telling me to go upstairs and relax. He's going to hose the beer garden and mop.

After a shower, I update the blog. Instead of gushing about the pub's opening night success, I feel emotional, and I want to share it.

" _I met some amazing people this evening at Masen's Pub in Covent Garden, and it confirms what a great base London is for all kinds of travel. This city is like a heart beating, filling us with life and sending us on our way, then drawing us back, enriched by our journey. No matter what happens in the next few weeks, I am coming back to delve deeper into London's secrets. The fact I've fallen in love with a man who lives here will only make me strive harder to make this my home for as long as London will have me."_

I sign it as Angel, the first time I've blogged in my own voice for a while, adding that Klaus is already asleep.

Wondering where Edward is, I get up and put on one of his t-shirts. Coming down the stairs, I see him at the till.

"Are you coming up now?" I ask.

"You're not going to believe this," he says with a smile.

I run my hands over his highly polished bar. "What am I not going to believe?"

"We made a thousand pounds tonight. Just over, in fact."

"Is that good?"

"I mean profit. A thousand pounds profit," he answers, shaking his head as he shuts down the till.

"Wow."

Coming around to me, he slides his hands around my waist. "We didn't open for lunch, Bella. It could have been higher."

"I'm so proud of you." Throwing my arms around him, I soak up the look of delight on his face.

"You brought a lot of thirsty people in here today."

"I think it was a team effort, Edward," I say, scratching the back of his neck.

He squeezes my ass and runs his nose along my jaw, breathing sensually. "Well, little Miss Blowjob, I think it's time I showed you how grateful I am, and it won't involve you wearing my shirt."

"You're not tired?"

"Oh, no," he growls. "I'm energized, baby."

* * *

The morning is a mass of activity with deliveries arriving. By nine, Edward has restocked the bar and is taking empty boxes out to the dumpster. A man is wheeling in boxes of food. I want to help, but Edward reminds me I am not allowed to work here, to avoid the trap now we're open for business.

Going upstairs, I finalize my packing, double-checking I have everything for the all-important visa application. Then I look around our huge room, still bare of furniture, a symbol of the limbo I've been living. There's the new bed we've been breaking in, the grotty old single, and Tanya's wardrobe. I haven't had the money, and Edward hasn't had the time to add anything more.

Taking photos, I imagine the space with nightstands, lamps, a chest of drawers or two, a table and chairs, even a couch and a television. The thought of turning the area into a comfortable apartment makes me question if I will ever come back, and the tears are threatening when Edward comes upstairs.

"You ready?" he asks quietly, finding a pair of jeans.

"We need furniture for this room."

"Yeah, that's your job when you come home."

Watching him throw his shorts on the bed and pull his jeans on, I can't stop the emotion building. "I wish it was the day I was flying back."

"I do, too, my love, but we're not going there," he says, sliding his phone into his pocket. "Dad will be here in a minute."

Nodding, I know I can't start crying when I'm the one who was reassuring him yesterday, saying I'll be back before he knows it. We only have a few hours left, and I don't want to spend them in tears.

"We'll have lunch at the airport?" he asks, picking up my bag, and I take a deep breath and a last look around the room before following him down the stairs.

As soon as Alice and Carlisle arrive, Alice announces timidly, "I'm going to Italy on the plane."

"Alice is going to Stresa to visit with Nonna," Carlisle adds. "We just got off the phone with her."

"Oh, I'm so jealous," I say genuinely. "You are going to love it."

"I don't remember her." Alice frowns, deep in thought.

"No, but she will remember you," I assure her. "When are you going?"

"Tomorrow," Carlisle answers. "I'm going to spend some time with my son."

Looking agitated, Edward says, "We gotta go, Dad."

Carlisle hugs me and tells me to come back quickly. Alice stands behind him, looking very unsure, so I touch her arm and say I will see her soon.

The train trip to Heathrow doesn't feel real. The food at the airport coffee shop makes me queasy. We talk about everyday things: what time I'll arrive in Seattle, my appointment at the Application Support Center on Tuesday, the paperwork I have with me, Edward's follow-up test with the doctor, and his promise to keep taking his calcium. Neither of us brings up the subject of him diving again.

By the time they call my flight, I'm sitting in his lap, and the tension is unbearable. With pleading eyes, he looks at the electronic board, showing "boarding".

"As soon as you get there, call me."

"I don't want to go," I say as my eyes fill with tears.

"Oh, please don't," he groans, surrounding me with his arms. "You have to go to come back."

"I know, but this is not fair."

"Hey, I love you," he says, tipping my chin up. "You're my girl, and we'll be together one way or another." He curls his fingers around my jaw, studying my face, then wipes a tear from my cheek.

They call the flight again, and we kiss, clinging to each other.

"Go," he says. "Quick, before I start crying."

"I love you... so much." I shiver as I hug him, and he cradles my head in his hand. Then I squeeze him and let go. Two and a half days together wasn't enough. Two and a half weeks wouldn't have been.

Waiting in line, I turn and see him standing with his hands in his hair. He looks about as bad as I feel. When I wave, he holds his hand up, and we're locked like that until a woman behind me makes a snarky comment about me moving. We all shuffle forward, and when I turn around, Edward's gone. They scan me and my stuff while I bawl my eyes out. Nobody takes any notice.

* * *

Mom and Dad are both there to pick me up at SeaTac - four in the afternoon and midnight in London. I've already spoken to Edward who sounded tired. After another busy day at the pub, he was looking forward to a quieter Monday and a chance to reorganize.

Driving home, Mom needs to point out every improvement, every new building under construction. I respond with single words while I gaze out the window. The heavy gray sky and the rain are familiar, but it doesn't feel like coming home. I'm too tired to feel anything but numb.

Mom serves a wonderful dinner, but for me it's 3:00 am. Struggling to make conversation, I can't stay awake with them to watch television. There is some comfort in my old bed, but I only feel it for the minute before I sink into a coma that lasts until midday the next day.

When I wake, there's a text waiting from Edward, saying, "Check your email." He's attached a dozen photos Carlisle took of the pub's opening, instantly lifting my spirits, and I take the laptop downstairs to show Mom. She says she is surprised the pub is not the gloomy place she had in her mind. She also says Carlisle is very attractive, asking me why he's single.

I'm honestly not sure but open up about the circumstances of Esme's death and Alice's diagnosis that led Edward to leave home at seventeen, trying to earn money for his sister's treatment. Mom needs to know the man I'm going to spend my life with, and the bright future we can have together if I can just get this working visa. I tell her how caring he is, how thoughtful and understanding he's been, while I caused problem after problem by not doing my homework properly before I left to go away. I read her the poetic verses he sent while he was away.

"Edward sounds wonderful, but is he going to dive again? Your father still is not happy about you living in the pub alone."

"He hasn't answered that question yet, but he knows how I feel about it."

"Are you prepared to take his word when he says it's not dangerous? What happens to you if he has a diving accident?"

"I don't know."

"Try putting yourself in our shoes. We're trusting our only daughter to a man we've never met. We want answers when it affects you."

"Okay, but there's no guarantee I will be able to go back anyway," I say, starting to cry, and she hugs me.

"Oh, Bella. I can see you're very much in love with him. Just keep following your dream, and everything else will fall into place."

I forgot the healing power of my mother's arms. She holds me until I stop crying and then smiles without offering any more advice. From that moment on, everything is lighter, and I tell her all about Ben and Angela and the new relationship between Emmett and Tanya.

Eventually, the subject of Rose comes up, and Mom astounds me when she asks why I am surprised by Rose's behavior, recounting things I had forgotten. In Mom's eyes, Rose has always been jealous of me, maneuvering to make herself the center of attention. She reminds me of the parties that coincidentally clashed with my birthday, the boy I liked who took Rose to prom. Mom says she was wary when Rose joined me on a trip to Europe that was always my adventure. I just nod, agreeing with everything she says, loving this chance to talk as best friends. Just after four, I excuse myself to call Edward.

"Hi," he says quietly. "It's so good to hear your voice. I miss you."

"I do too. How was today?" I ask.

"Mondays are not as quiet as I thought. I'm getting into a routine now. How about you?"

"Spent the afternoon talking to Mom about everything."

"Like what?"

"Mainly about you and what's going happen to me if you go back to dive." Letting it hang there for a second, he doesn't respond. "We talked about Rose and Tanya and Angela. Is she still working there?"

"Yeah, she's great. I want her to commit to some permanent shifts when she goes back to college."

"What's happening with Alice?"

"Now she's there, she's settling in apparently."

"And Carlisle?"

"I don't know who called who, but he had a lunch date with Siobhan today, and he didn't come in tonight."

Squealing softly, I'm thrilled at this news.

"Do you think it was our kissing in public that made him horny?" I ask, giggling.

"Oh, God. I do not want to know. Can we talk about something else? Big day tomorrow."

Sighing, I answer, "Yes."

"Are you nervous?"

"A little."

"Just be honest. You have nothing to hide. Call me when it's over."

"I will. I'll let you get some sleep."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

Mr. Jenks is one of those methodical people who love order and details in their rightful place. He belongs in this kind of work, adjusting my application in a couple of spots and initialing his changes.

"You've been living in the U.K." he states, looking mildly surprised.

"Since June," I answer nervously, wondering where the question is leading.

"If you have worked in the U.K. without approval, you can forget the application."

"I understand that. I haven't worked at all. My parents sent me money to keep me going. My boyfriend did pay for my flight home."

"That's allowed," he says with a tiny smile that I return.

Checking the documents and occasionally asking me to confirm something, he stamps and initials every page, placing them in precise order in one of their own large envelopes with my passport.

"I can't see any delays, Miss Swan. Good luck."

I have to ask. "Do you think it will be approved?"

"I don't ever make assumptions because there are many reasons an application can fail after it's passed through my scrutiny. However, I've approved it, so you can say you're through round one. You will be contacted if they require more clarification."

He stands to dismiss me, and I leave there without an actual answer but feeling a little encouraged. From now on, no news is good news.

Edward is not happy that the man was so noncommittal. He wants answers I can't give him about when I'll find out. I just tell him to be patient.

Over the next few days, I go through the contents of my room and throw out all the stuff I should have dealt with before I left. It's a disgrace that I've hung on to old high school textbooks, essays I wrote in college, clothes I hardly ever wore. This is a job I need to do whether I'm leaving the country or not.

Once it's done, I assess what I can take with me on the plane and what I'll need to ship. Mom and I visit the post office to find out about box sizes and costs. I also inquire about the process of picking up my approved application. The woman at the counter is very helpful, and I leave there with a positive plan.

When we pull into the driveway, I stop talking mid-sentence and stare. I know it's impossible, that my eyes must be playing tricks on me, but my heart's reaction convinces me it's true.

Edward is sitting on the steps of the front porch.

 _ **Thanks for reading xo**_


	20. Chapter 20

_**Once again, sorry for the delay in the update. I've been working on an EPOV from when Edward left the island, which is going into The Fandom For Mental Health compilation. Please do donate to this worthy cause to receive the collection when so many authors are giving.**_

 _ **Thanks to my word gurus, Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley, for giving me your time once again.**_

 _ **And thank you to those of you reading and reviewing. I'm so grateful knowing you are there when this story has grown beyond anything I expected.**_

* * *

 **Chapter 20**

Mom drives the car into the garage while I walk up to Edward, grinning and shaking my head. He doesn't look like someone who's just come off a long flight. He's made an effort to look nice with a haircut and new clothes: charcoal slacks, a beige button-up shirt, even a tan belt and matching shoes. Not as pale as he looked a week ago, he's gorgeous today. Maybe it's because he's flown halfway around the world to be here.

"So this is why you called me early yesterday."

"Yep," he replies, taking my hands and kissing them one after the other.

I'm kind of dazed, unsure this is real. "You want to tell me what you're doing here? I haven't even been gone a week."

With a smirk on his lips, he answers, "I have news, and I need to talk to your parents."

I narrow my eyes when he keeps staring at me, his amused expression giving nothing away.

"Don't you have a pub to run? Has there been a fire? Plumes of smoke rising above Covent Garden?"

Chuckling, he answers, "I have two excellent bartenders and a father who's presiding over the business. Em is keeping an eye on the financials. It will run just fine without me."

The sound of the garage door makes us look over at Mom, walking toward us with an expression similar to mine—wary, but inquisitive.

"Mom, this is Edward."

"Mrs. Swan."

"It's Renee."

"Nice to meet you, Renee," he says, surrounding me with his arm as he shakes her hand. This is so weird, having him here on the front lawn.

"How's London?" she asks, like they're old friends.

"A bit lonely." He looks down at me and squeezes my waist.

"Would you... like to come in?" Mom asks, as if she doubts he'll say yes. She's having the same reaction to seeing him here as I am.

"That'd be great. I was just enjoying your porch. By the way, you have good neighbors. The man across the street asked me what I was doing here. I think he's still watching me."

Mom laughs as I look at the curtains pulled at an angle in old man Gerandy's window. He always was a snoop. We turn our backs on him as Mom opens the front door.

"We were at the post office, finding out how to ship my stuff to the U.K."

Edward stops in his tracks. "Have you heard something?"

"No, we were just on a fact-finding mission. You know it could take weeks."

"Yeah," he says with a sigh.

"How long are you staying?" Mom asks, directing him to a stool at the breakfast bar. This is how she is with me. She wants to feed him.

He doesn't let me go, keeping his arms around me. "I'm not sure. I have to go back via Milan to pick Alice up. The airline called and said they won't take her unaccompanied again." I look at him, dreading the explanation. "Apparently she caused quite a scene. It was the noise, the confinement... a tray of food that ended up over the people around her."

"Should be an interesting flight, then," I reply, imagining Alice at her worst.

"She's okay when she flies with Dad."

"I hope you're staying with us, Edward." Mom steers us around to more important matters. "We have pie."

"Pie?" he asks, with wide eyes and a grin.

"Homemade cherry pie."

He raises his shoulders like a kid, nodding and smiling so big, I have to kiss his cheek. Without realizing, he's encouraging Mom's need to nurture, and she's in heaven, probably starting a mental list of the groceries she'll need.

"Your father will be home soon. Why don't you take Edward to the spare room and get him settled in while I heat up the pie?"

Edward tells her he cannot wait to taste it. Then he picks up his new canvas bag and follows me up the stairs. As soon as we're in the room, he sits on the bed, pulls me into his lap and kisses me.

"I missed you."

Admiring his haircut up close, I ask, "What are you really doing here, Edward?"

"You said a few things that made me realize how hard this must be for your parents when they've never met me, so here I am." He smiles and gives me a squeeze. "I have so much to tell you."

"Like what?"

"I don't know where to start… Okay, a guy came into the pub and fell in love with the painting... you know, the big one. He returned the next day with two men and asked for the price. I had no idea so I got Tanya on the phone, and she told them it wasn't for sale, that she would paint something unique for them on commission. They said they were in a hurry and wanted to see more of her work, but when they found out she was forty minutes away, they said they'd call if they wanted to go ahead. After two days and no call back, Dad and Emmett were in the attic, investigating its use as a studio and storage area for her."

"We have an attic?"

"Well, there's space in the roof, enough to stand up in, almost the same area as we have. There are even a couple of windows. Dad's already building stairs and a wall. We'll have a proper hallway."

I can't help smiling because I still shudder when I remember being terrified Alice was going to walk in on us in bed.

"Will Tanya use it as a gallery?"

"Temporary gallery. She wants to rent something in the city when she can afford it."

"Then what happens to the space? Do you have plans for it?"

"Tanya might move in upstairs."

I'm frowning as I take in what he's saying. There's a reason he's not including Jasper and Emmett, but I'm too afraid to ask. Maybe something's happened, and Emmett is going home.

"What about Jasper? Where will he live?"

"Siobhan has offered to take him in as her lodger."

"Have you decided to employ him?"

"Yeah, Liam's happy with him. He's a good worker."

"I'm so pleased!" I throw my arms around his neck, and I'm still hugging him when Dad knocks on the door.

"So this is Edward," Dad states cautiously.

Edward is unexpectedly calm in front of my father in uniform. Confidently, he stands, shaking my father's hand while keeping an arm around me. He did this with Mom, too, and I love how willing he is to show affection in front of my family.

"Sir," he says with a smile. "I've been looking forward to meeting you."

"So have I," Dad responds, with less enthusiasm than Edward. It feels awkward to me, like we've been caught doing something wrong. "Go downstairs, and I'll join you in a minute."

I don't know if Dad means to go down where they can keep an eye on us or if the pie is ready. I've never had to introduce a serious boyfriend like this before. As soon as Mom sees us, she takes the pie from the oven, and Edward groans. She cuts him a generous slice and adds a spoonful of ice cream, pushing the plate toward him. Looking between us, he lifts the plate and breathes in the aroma, closing his eyes to savor it. When he eats a mouthful, he starts to laugh, as if what he's tasting isn't real, and Mom is delighted. I'm not hungry, but I agree to a small piece to make her happy. My eyes are feasting on Edward enjoying Mom's homemade pie.

When Dad appears and takes his plate with a smile, I see what she's doing. She's putting everyone in a good mood, relaxing us with food and hospitality.

"This is a quite a surprise to find you here, Edward. Why don't you come over to the table?" Dad requests in a slightly commanding tone. All discussions of any importance involving my father have to take place at the dining table, and I wonder what Dad is up to. I take my pie and sit close to Edward in a show of support. "Didn't you just open a pub?"

"It's in very good hands." Dad frowns like he's questioning Edward's judgement, so Edward explains. "I wasn't expecting the pub to open so soon. When I came home and they'd finished the renovations, Dad wanted it open and making money before he left to go home. Anyway, apart from a few days last Christmas, I haven't had a vacation in a very long time, so he gave me a short break."

"Isn't Seattle a little far for a short break?" I don't like Dad's tone. He's undoing all of Mom's work.

"I wanted to meet you, to assure you I'm going to look after your daughter in England."

"And how are you going to do that if you're away for a month at a time? I don't want her living on her own in your pub."

Edward takes my hand and says, "I don't have plans to dive again, but there might come a time when I need an injection of money. I promise you I won't go unless she is living with people she trusts."

"At the pub?" All I can do is sigh and let Dad get this out of his system.

"Yes, at the pub with her friend, Tanya, and my manager, Emmett."

I know Edward feels my flinch, but he doesn't react, and I'm determined not to show my surprise. This is the best news I could imagine.

"Do we know Emmett?" He glances at Mom who rolls her eyes.

"Emmett was Rosalie's boyfriend, remember? The one who looks like a quarterback."

Dad raises his eyebrows, realizing who she's talking about. "Oh, I thought he was an American."

"He is an American, and I'm going to be his sponsor. Emmett has experience managing bigger businesses than mine, so I can learn from him. Neither of us wants to work seven days a week and we haven't had a chance to travel yet. I want the flexibility to join Bella occasionally when she's in Europe."

"Bella hasn't had the visa approved yet."

"Dad? Please don't be negative," I add in frustration.

"No, it's a fair comment, Bella, and one of the reasons I'm here. I'm not convinced you _will_ get the approval, and I want to make sure you're coming back to London."

As I look into his eyes, I slide my hand on his thigh, so proud to call him my man. If Dad wasn't here, I'd be kissing him right now. I don't know what he's got planned, but I want to be part of it.

"You have to follow the system, Edward," Dad says, with an air of authority.

"I understand that, sir, but I've spent time studying the rules and emailing my contact at the Government office and the complication doesn't end with her visa approval. The sponsorship itself is very restrictive. Bella cannot work in any other role except for the job at _Zipline_ , not even for free, and your daughter is naturally helpful. She picks things up and packs them away. She grabs a broom and sweeps the floor. If someone reports her for working in the pub, she could face deportation. It's a potential problem for us."

Dad starts smoothing his moustache. He does this when he's digesting information he's not comfortable with, getting his arguments ready. He was doing this very thing at the table when I introduced the idea of travelling and working in London.

"I'm assuming you see a solution for the problem... since you've come all this way?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

"You don't want her to take on the sponsorship?"

"No, I hope she does work at _Zipline._ It's perfect for her and a fantastic start to her career. I want some guarantees I'm not going to lose her."

Edward raises my hand to his cheek. He's slightly emotional, so sincere that I feel my eyes welling with tears as my arm slides around his shoulders. I just don't see a solution when we've already discussed what he's talking about.

Dad takes to his mustache again, then scratches his chin. I wonder what's coming next.

"What are you proposing, Edward?" Mom asks, as if she already has an idea what he's about to say.

Edward smiles at her and then at me.

"I'm proposing a different kind of visa where I sponsor Bella, where she's granted the same rights as a citizen of the U.K."

"Where are you getting this one from?" I ask. "It wasn't on the list when I was researching."

He looks at Mom and Dad as he answers. "It's called a family visa." Then his eyes lock on mine. "You apply as my wife."

I have to swallow because he's completely stunned me. Yes, I love him, and I want to be with him more than anything, but this is such a shock I have nothing. Mom covers her mouth with her hand, but I can see her eyes crinkling.

Dad speaks for me. "You want to get married?"

"We can be married in Washington state three days after we apply."

"Married." I say it aloud for the word to have meaning.

Edward is so sure of himself, solving this problem. It's one of the things I love about him, his tenacity, whether it's trying to help his father out of a terrible financial situation or working night and day to ready the pub for my first viewing. It's his drive to impress me, whether he's fighting to go straight, or planning the most romantic date anyone ever had.

Now I can't stop where my brain is going—all I see is what I have to give up. I always imagined a courtship and a wedding with friends and family I'd never forget, and Edward doesn't realize he's being pragmatic with a dream that will never be fulfilled.

"The visa approval takes twelve weeks, so I want to get married here in case I have to leave on my own. If Bella gets this job, we transfer from one visa to the other. If the job falls through, she can choose to stay here until we get the family visa. I want her to come back with me, but she won't be able to work for another three months, so I'm going to leave that part up to her."

"You should be working in sales, Edward," Dad says, shaking his head slightly.

Getting up from the table before I start to cry, I have to come to terms with this feeling of loss before I say anything.

"Bella?" He's at my side as I reach the back door. "Please let me finish, my love."

"I just need a minute to take this in. I'm going out to the swing."

"Then I'll come with you."

I don't respond, pushing the screen door and feeling the chill in the air as I head for the place I think about important stuff. This has always been my spot, where I hold onto the chains and lean back to clear my head. I've daydreamed here, too, about falling in love and romantic marriage proposals. They were never like this.

"I thought you might have known about this visa," Edward says, holding onto the post and stretching his arms.

I twist the swing toward him, "There were a lot of sections that didn't apply to me. It was hard enough getting through the work visas, and even then, I didn't get it right."

He sighs, then asks, "You still want to come back, don't you?"

"That's a ridiculous question. You know I do."

"Then why are you upset? Won't this solve our problems?"

Rocking back and forth on the swing, I look at the ground. I'm sure he thinks he's asked a rhetorical question, and it takes a few seconds to find an answer that won't hurt him.

"I never thought I'd have to get married to solve a problem."

Edward snorts and looks up to the sky, making me think I _have_ hurt him. "Remember that night on the island when I asked if you'd be my girlfriend if I didn't have all the shit in my life?"

"Yes." I clearly remember the kiss that followed my answer when the chemistry first exploded between us.

He squats in front of me, holding the swing still. "Well, pretend you're already in London and working. Would you marry me?"

I place my arms around his shoulders, melting, and he knows it. "Probably. Maybe not so soon. I like being your girlfriend."

Now he smirks. "I do, too. So how about we treat getting married as part of the visa process? Then in a year, we'll have a wedding. I'll make sure you still want to be my girlfriend."

"I'm sure you will," I say, playing with his hair and admiring how handsome he is in the late afternoon sun. "You know I adore you."

"And I'm mad about you," he responds, pulling me in for a kiss which becomes so sensual, I feel floaty when he breaks away. "We should go back inside," he says, with more restraint than I have, standing and helping me up from the swing. "I still have some work to do with your father before he'll accept me."

When Edward walks ahead, I can't help my hand from reaching out and squeezing his ass. He turns around and glares at me, telling me to behave.

"I like your new clothes," I say with an admiring look, then add softly, "They'd look great on the chair in my bedroom."

"Jesus, Bella." He pulls me toward the house, and I giggle, my mood greatly improved from when I came out here.

Over dinner, Dad seems to punctuate every mouthful with another question aimed at a very tired Edward. He is quite respectful as he guides Edward through details I never knew about his mother's shooting and how they all coped. Edward describes a very different Carlisle, suffering terribly from the loss of his beloved wife, resisting Edward's claims there was something wrong with Alice. A year of specialist appointments produced no definitive diagnosis, and they had to accept the most probable cause when Alice's symptoms pointed to a condition somewhere on the autism spectrum.

Edward says he never agreed with the diagnosis, preferring to call her quirky, rather than autistic. He still believes whatever Alice experienced the day their mother was killed caused something to happen in her brain because he's adamant she was normal until then.

He tells us that ten years ago, families couldn't claim back much for the therapy. They spent his mother's life insurance money by the time Alice started at a special school with small class sizes. He's sure it was the best thing they ever did, but the cost was the last straw for his father, who started talking about selling the home he'd built for his family.

Edward begged him not to sell it when he felt his father wasn't making rational decisions. Then he found out Carlisle had already borrowed against the house. Seeing no other way out of the situation, Edward convinced his father to wait, promising to get a job and give him everything he could.

I'm interested to hear about his life during that time before he came to the island. He admitted to me he was selling drugs from early on, but tonight he weaves a tale of working multiple jobs even I can believe. When he starts talking about the resort, I back him up, saying the free accommodations and food were the only way I saved enough money to go to Europe. Mom and Dad already know this, and I hope it gives credence to the rest of Edward's story.

As he talks about the dive school, he's so depleted I tell him to go to bed. He says goodnight, kissing my cheek before dragging himself up the stairs. He must look like I did a week ago. The time difference is brutal.

"Do you _want_ to marry this man?" Dad asks as if this is the only important question.

"Yes," I answer confidently, taking the dessert bowls from the table. "And we'll have a wedding in a year."

"In case it doesn't work out?"

"No, because he knows it's what I want, Dad."

I busy myself, loading the dishwasher, while Mom hand washes a few things, and Dad goes to his favorite position on the couch. When we're both done, Mom joins him, and I grab my laptop, responding to people who still care about about my return to London. When I'm finished, I go upstairs and check on Edward who is soundly asleep. I'd love to crawl in with him, just to feel him next to me, but doing so would cause unnecessary friction when all I want is for Dad to accept him.

Falling asleep reading, I wake with the bedside light on and the book on the floor. I hear Dad's muted voice and realize they're talking in bed. Eager to hear what they're saying, I creep up the hall, avoiding the floorboard that creaks, and stand outside their door.

"I don't care. There's something not right about him," Dad says, making me hold my breath.

"Good heavens," Mom says with a snort.

"Edward doesn't even have a parking ticket on record."

"Maybe he didn't have a car."

"The police check found nothing, and yet he left home right out of school on some misguided quest to help his father? At that age, they have no judgement, no impulse control. They can't possibly anticipate bad decisions. You know the kinds of temptations thrown in front of these kids."

"You want to judge him because he doesn't have a police record?"

"No, I'm trying to be realistic. He's working in a world of alcohol without parental supervision. There should be something, some misdemeanor, because in that situation no one is perfect."

"No, and neither were you, remember? Joyriding wasn't it, under the influence of alcohol?"

"Why do you still bring that up? I wasn't charged."

"Only because of my uncle. You still stole his car."

Dad's sigh is long and heavy, as if he's giving up, and I'm about to go back to bed when he says, "I'm going to dig a little deeper before she marries him because something doesn't add up, Renee."

I can't let this happen, not when Edward has tried so hard to go straight. My brain is racing while I work out what I should tell Dad before knocking on their door.

"Dad?"

"Come in, Bells."

Sitting on their bed, I ask innocently, "Why do you need to go digging into Edward's past?" Now he knows I've heard some of their conversation, and I see him swallow as if he's not comfortable.

"If he's going to be my son-in-law, I want to know what we're getting."

"You don't think he's being honest with you?"

"I just think there's a lot more to him."

"Why?"

"Edward leaves home for the sole purpose of helping his father. Without an education, he's not making enough money, yet he continues for years. I could understand him giving up and leading a small life, but the man I met today is highly intelligent and motivated. It doesn't fit."

I raise my eyebrows slightly, as if I'm surprised, but I'm hearing Dad work Edward out, piece by piece. In many ways, it's fascinating.

"So what do you think he's hiding?"

"The source of the money he was sending home. What usually happens is they work for someone who impresses them, who starts giving them extra duties that pay well and keeps them around. They don't realize how expendable they are until they make a mistake and get caught."

"Caught, doing what?"

"I'll tell you what you want to know." Edward's voice comes from the doorway.

"Then let's go downstairs and talk, Edward," Dad says, getting out of bed.

 _ **Thanks for reading xo**_


	21. Chapter 21

_**This was always going to be a significant chapter where I needed input from my three incredible women. There are no thanks big enough for Nic, VampyreGirl86 or Hadley. The time you have given me, the advice, has been everything. Love you girls so much! Mwah!**_

 _ **Reviews last chapter were wonderful and I thank you for every one of them! They encouraged me so much! Thank you to everyone who is still reading, too. Love you!**_

* * *

 **Chapter 21**

"I'll make tea?" Mom offers, with hopeful eyes.

"No, Renee," Dad responds. "It's late. Go to sleep."

After giving Edward a smile of encouragement as he leaves with Dad, I turn to my mother.

"Why is Dad doing this?"

"He cares about you," she answers, running her hand over my arm. "Of course he's inquisitive about Edward. Just go to bed, and leave him to it."

We hear Dad's low voice, and both of us listen intently. I desperately want to hear what they say, but the sounds are muffled, the words indistinct, so I stand and go to the doorway.

"Bella," Mom whispers to call me back. When I put my hand up, she sighs and pulls the covers around her. Quietly inching down the hall, I'm almost at the top of the stairs when I can finally hear.

"How old were you then?" Dad asks.

"Eighteen, maybe nineteen."

Dad hums—a sound he makes when he doesn't approve. "Old enough to serve alcohol in Florida but not drink it. When did you suspect illegal activity?"

"I had to make some very dubious late night deliveries. Look, I just did what I was told. When it started to feel dangerous, I came up with an excuse and found a new job."

"Like the one on the island where Bella was working?"

"Eventually, yes, and I stayed there because I found ways to make extra money on my own."

"What exactly does 'on your own' mean?"

I hate Dad treating Edward like a suspect. He's already admitted there is no criminal record, and Edward is exhausted, in no state to confess his past like this.

"You probably know we were isolated. To leave the island, we either had to take a boat or a plane. Living in that kind of isolation, the staff still needed lots of personal things, and I provided a service where I left every couple of weeks to fill all their orders. They got to enjoy their days off, and I saved them money in transport and accommodations, so they didn't question the price."

"What kind of things did you supply?"

"Anything... as long as I could carry it."

It goes quiet for an eternity of seconds, and I peek out, seeing Dad scratch at his moustache.

"Give me an example."

"Toiletries, candy."

"Uh huh. What else?"

Suddenly, a feeling of panic fills my chest, and I want to scream out to Dad not to go there. He's going to wear Edward down sooner or later, and someone will mention drugs, when none of this is important in the big scheme of things. All Dad needs to know is that Edward loves me and will take care of me. I have to defend my man against this bullshit.

Before I know it, I'm down the stairs with my arms around Edward's shoulders.

"I got a second-hand television."

Edward chuckles and squeezes my wrist. "That was another way I made money. As soon as someone was leaving, I'd offer to buy their heavy items, and then I'd sell them to one of the new staff. Sometimes people only stayed for two months and dragging televisions and stereos onto a boat is a pain. Anyway, I never asked _you_ to pay," he says, kissing my cheek. "Bella wasn't speaking to me at the time."

"Oh?" Dad asks, staring at me.

"She was disgusted with me."

I jump in to explain before he brings up the real reason I wasn't talking to him. "I thought I caught Edward stealing. He was going through the rooms after checkout and taking bottles of booze they left behind."

"I sold them at the staff bar for my own profit. You can make money from a fifth of Jack Daniels."

Dad is playing with his moustache again, only his eyebrows are now drawn in a tiny frown. "How about marijuana? Ever sell a little hooch?"

"Dad," I say as my pulse rate skyrockets.

"Yes," Edward answers, and I sit down beside him, feeling beaten.

"I already knew about the drug raid on the resort, Edward, and that there were no arrests. I also knew you left that day. Who was supplying you with the drugs?"

Edward sighs but keeps eye contact with Dad. "A cop… narcotics unit…"

"Oh, God." Dad closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. "How much money _were_ you sending home?"

"Not that much really… two hundred here, five hundred there, but it was enough. Dad didn't sell the house. Look, I haven't done anything illegal since then. I haven't even had a smoke."

"And you, Bella?" Dad asks. "Do you smoke?"

"No," I answer with a huff. "I've never tried it."

"At least you never corrupted my daughter," Dad says, with an eyebrow raised to threaten. "That would have been a big mistake."

With the tiniest nod, Edward agrees. "I know that. When I first met Bella, I thought I was trapped, but she never saw me that way. She kept encouraging me, taking me closer and closer to the way out. When I found it, I was determined to make her proud of me."

Dad leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and threading his fingers together, looking at them while we wait.

"You were what I call an opportunist, Edward—just one mistake away from getting caught. I understand life dealt you a lousy hand, and at that young age, you weren't making wise decisions. What matters is you learn from your past and leave it there. Frankly, it makes me sick a police officer took advantage of you, but I wouldn't ruin your future by blowing that up. For what it's worth, I admire your honesty tonight, and the fact you left that world behind. You may think Bella was the influence you needed, but you've still done this on your own."

"No," Edward corrects him, taking my hand. "She was with me all the time, even though we were on different continents. I love her. I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

I squeeze his hand right back and lean against his shoulder. For the first time, Dad smiles.

"Wouldn't be the first time a man did the right thing for the love of a good woman."

"He is a good man," I add, kissing Edward's cheek.

Dad nods, then sighs as he looks at his watch.

 _He's losing interest! Have we really survived by telling the truth but not the whole truth?_

"Well, I'm going to bed," Dad says, groaning as he gets up. "Don't stay up too late, you two."

We look at each other as he goes upstairs, and Edward holds his chest as if he's steadying his heart.

"Come here," he says, pulling me into his lap. "I need you."

The warmth of his body is so comforting, I'm already calming down.

"It's going to be okay. The fact that he went to bed is a very good sign. He would have kept you up all night until he was satisfied."

"Jesus," Edward whispers, resting his cheek on my head.

It's going to take him a while to get over this because he doesn't know Dad like I do. Dad won't bring it up again. Mom might, but she will only ask me what happened, not Edward. As I rub Edward's back, it's a good feeling to know we've crossed over what I thought was an insurmountable hurdle. In all fairness, Dad has handled it well. I wonder how someone else's father, who doesn't know the world like mine does, would have reacted. He probably would have kicked Edward out without a second thought.

* * *

Coming out of sleep, I don't know where the dream ends and reality begins. Edward's chest is against my back, but I open my eyes to the blue walls of my teenage bedroom. Registering the weight of his arm over me, I turn around and meet his beaming smile.

"I'm on vacation," he announces, like he doesn't have a care in the world.

Running my fingers through his hair, I ask, "What are you doing in my bed?"

"I'm not _in_ your bed, I'm on it. There's a difference."

"Where are my parents?"

"Downstairs, having breakfast. Are you going to get up now?"

"Sure. Are you hungry?"

"Well… yeah."

"And you don't want to go join them on your own?"

He starts to laugh, shaking his head. "I'm scared," he mumbles into my hair. I rub his head, enjoying this wonderful feeling. After last night's tension, we really _are_ going to be together, one way or another. We're going to be married!

"You wouldn't be here if he didn't approve of you."

"I know," he says, hugging me and rocking us back and forth, then he lifts his head and smiles. "I love you."

The adoring look in his eyes makes me melt. "Oh, I love you too, so much."

After a disappointingly chaste kiss, he gets up and asks, "How long does it take to choose an engagement ring? Are we talking hours or days?"

Now I'm laughing, hardly able to believe what I'm hearing. "I don't know."

"Where do we go?"

"Mom will know. She's the queen of diamonds."

"Yeah, I noticed. She wears a lot of rings."

"Dad's not very creative with presents, but she doesn't mind."

"Okay, up you get." He lifts me until I'm kneeling, then he bends down to kiss me. His hands slide over my ass, and the kiss changes. The feeling of bliss is brief, ruined when a noise makes me aware we're not alone, and one of them may appear in the open doorway.

Pushing on his chest, I say, "Let me get dressed, and we'll go down together."

With a sigh and one more kiss, he leaves me with blood pounding in places that only react when he's near.

* * *

Dad gives us a nod when we appear downstairs and goes back to his newspaper. Telling Mom not to fuss, I cook us bacon and eggs. Edward takes advantage of the time to quiz Mom about her rings.

"Five years, ten years. They're all milestone anniversaries or birthdays." As Edward listens to her describing their history, I notice Dad glancing up occasionally. I wonder what Mom has said because yesterday's constant questions have been silenced. He might be a strong and obstinate man, but he bends to her wishes to keep her happy. "You should go to the Northgate Mall. There are several jewelers there, and you must go to Alana."

"Mom's best friend," I add, placing Edward's plate down in front of him. He smiles and touches my back in thanks.

"She is not," Mom says defensively. "They're reputable, that's all. What do you have in mind?"

Mom has directed the question to Edward who looks lost. "I don't know. You buy a carat, don't you?"

"Don't go to Tiffany's, then," Dad offers quietly, and Edward glances at each of us for guidance. Mum gets up and walks away, so I encourage him to keep eating, suspecting what's coming. She returns with her card that lists the differences in cut, color, clarity and carat, attempting to educate Edward. I've heard this same spiel many times when she's been showing off one of her new rings, but I've never retained it. Edward acts like he's impressed and wants to get going as soon as we can.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Mom asks, eager for a positive answer. Edward looks at me with a strange sort of smile that leaves him open to the suggestion while deferring to me. This is something personal I would prefer to do alone with Edward, but I'm her only daughter getting married, and to say no would be heartless when she's done everything for me.

Saying yes turns out to be the best decision I ever made.

Alana greets Mom with an embrace, gushing over Edward and me like we're family, relating her own grand stories of trips to London. She gives us her personal attention, offering suggestions and overloading me with choices while Edward leaves to buy himself a wedding band. Alana buys and sells estate and vintage jewelry, so everything is secondhand. Each of these rings has a story, a reason they parted company with their owner, but Mom keeps telling me to forget that and focus on the right diamond, imagining it re-set in a style that suits me.

It's hard to do when they are all too something—too elaborate or old-fashioned, so Alana brings out something different, a recent acquisition. It is a set, a plain engagement ring with a round solitaire diamond and a wedding band, half of the circle set with delicate round diamonds. It is so pretty and sparkly and huge that I don't want to ask the price when the engagement ring alone on the Tiffany's website is over $12,000.

She must see my yearning look, because she takes it out and checks the tiny tag attached. "$3,400."

We haven't discussed a budget, but it doesn't seem excessive for something I'll have for a lifetime, so I try them on, finding they actually fit me. I fall in love instantly, not caring there must be something wrong for a ring like this to be abandoned. Mom studies the certificate while I play with the rings, turning my hand over and admiring the simplicity of the plain bands underneath.

"I'm all set," Edward announces, placing his bag on the counter. "How are you doing?"

I hold out my hand, and he takes my fingers to get a close look, then smiles. "It's beautiful. Wedding ring too?"

I'm still mesmerized by the ring when Alana speaks. "The solitaire is just shy of the full carat, which is not as popular, and therefore cheaper. The man made the mistake of buying the set without consulting his future fiancée. He told me she rejected the engagement ring, refusing to try it on when the carat didn't meet her magic number. Very sad, because it's a beautiful classic."

"What do you think, Renee?" Edward asks, and Mom shrugs.

"$3,000, Alana."

"Renee, you know what a good deal this is."

"Yes, but the twenty-fifth wedding anniversary is coming up soon."

After a sigh and a chuckle, Alana agrees.

"Is it too expensive, Edward?" I ask, my eyes begging him to say no. I never thought this experience would be so thrilling, so important. It's something I'm going to write about one day soon.

He puts his arm around me and answers, "As long as you're happy, I'm happy."

"I _am_ happy. I love this ring as I love you."

"Then let's buy it," he says, handing over his card.

I have to take the rings off to be polished and placed in their velvet box. As Alana prepares to wrap them, Edward opens the box, takes the engagement ring, and gets down on one knee.

"Marry me, Bella, and not because of the visa. Marry me because I'll go crazy without you. Marry me, and let me prove what you did for me was worth it."

With tears trickling down my cheeks, I nod and say, "Yes, I'll marry you, but you don't need to prove anything to me, Edward. My heart held you all the time we were apart, and after everything I've learned about you since then, I couldn't be more sure you were worth it."

We beam at each other, and he stands, slipping the ring on my finger. After a kiss and a huge hug, we turn around, and every person in the store is staring. Mom looks like she is going to cry.

* * *

With the ring on my finger, things seem to change. Suddenly, there are people coming for dinner on Saturday night, friends of the family I haven't seen in years. When Dad introduces Edward as my fiancé, I have to hold it together, looking at Mom for support. Her warm smile says she knows how important his blessing is to me. I have to say, it feels good when people say they are jealous of the adventure we're living. They should be. I know it's going to be incredible.

Dad invites Edward to join him for golf on Sunday, so Mum takes me to buy a new dress. The golf is a success because Dad wins, even though he says Edward shows promise. We meet them at Dad's club for drinks and a meal where my parents ask about Edward's Italian heritage and the place Alice is currently vacationing. Edward's descriptions of the last time he visited Stresa have Mom swooning for a vacation of her own.

The discussion turns to dinner on Thursday night, and I suggest the Goldfinch Tavern at the Four Seasons Hotel. We'd been there before and loved it. I think Edward is surprised by the word "tavern," but the view alone is worth the visit. He will die for the food and probably be inspired for the pub.

Edward books us a room for our honeymoon night, some last minute deal he gets for the Hotel Sorrento, which is walking distance from the Four Seasons. With that detail finalized, all we have to do is get married.

Monday morning we're at the Shoreline Community Service Center early to submit our form. Edward has checked and double-checked every detail, so they issue the license without any problems, telling us it's active on Thursday. Once we book the Municipal Court of Seattle on Thursday at 4:30 for the marriage ceremony, we smile at each other, knowing we can finally relax.

I try to forget about the visa approval by taking Edward sightseeing in the city. He's so happy and carefree, I spend more time looking at him than my hometown's attractions. The ring keeps drawing my attention, too, and I'm aware it's there every minute, reminding me he really is mine.

During the day, we stop and try different foods around the city, without wasting time on a sit-down meal. I want him to experience other things from his life in a pub bistro. Tired from the day's walking, I drive us to the Westward Restaurant, where we spend sunset feeding each other oysters and gazing across the water at the city. After we eat, we grab a couple of chairs outside and sit quietly, holding hands by the open-air fire. I feel so content, I'm surprised when Edward suggests we get out of here, wanting to know if there's somewhere we can get a view of the city lights.

I offer to drive up to Kerry Park, honestly believing he wants to see the skyline by night, but it soon becomes obvious he has other things on his mind. He picks me up and plants me on the car's hood, kissing the hell out of me, only stopping when a family of five gets into the car right next to us, and the woman gives us a filthy look.

Once we're in the car, he's squeezing my thigh and kissing my neck. "Do we have to go home tonight?"

"Do you want to go to a hotel?"

"Somewhere, anywhere. I want you naked in bed with me."

I rack my brain as he's driving me wild, trying to come up with a solution, and everything seems sleazy—finding a hotel so late, calling my parents and having to explain why we're not coming home. This will spoil all the good we've achieved in the last few days.

Fighting every natural urge I have, I peel him off me. "No, Edward, we can wait a few days."

He frowns and then pouts, taking my hand and kissing it to show me he's not angry. "It's probably the oysters. I don't have them very often."

"Well, we'll have more on Thursday night."

"Okay." He sits back in his seat, and I lean over and cup his cheek, kissing him softly, loving him more than ever.

* * *

I wake to the sound of the garage door closing and see Mom backing out the driveway. Creeping downstairs, I know she will have left a note.

"Errands to run then lunch with the girls. Call if you need anything. Love you."

Full of nervous energy, I come up the stairs as quietly as possible and find Edward asleep. After going to the toilet, brushing my teeth, and taking the fastest shower known to mankind, I'm shaking slightly as I dry myself and brush my hair. The only thing I'm wearing is the engagement ring—no deodorant or perfume, hair loose, the way he prefers me. Just thinking about what's about to happen is arousing.

Standing in his doorway, I think he might be the most delicious thing I've ever seen. I climb in with him and kiss his neck. As he stirs, I slip my hand down the front of his pajama pants. When he sighs and pushes back onto me, I purr in his ear. "Good morning."

He covers my hand with his own and squeezes his cock, already growing harder by the second. Then he flinches, fully awake, and I giggle when he asks, "Jesus, where's your mother?"

"She went out," I answer, biting his ear. I feel him relax and move his hips as I squeeze a bit harder. "You want to join me in my bed? It's bigger."

"I may fall over," he says, kissing me softly. "All the blood just rushed to one place."

"Yeah, I noticed." Getting up, I sashay out the door and hear him groan as he gets up. As soon as I'm in bed, he's naked and next to me. Running my hands from his shoulders to his cock I say, "I love the first feeling of skin on skin in bed like this."

"The best," he responds, silencing me with his mouth and tongue.

What a creature he is, so sensual in his movements, so passionate without crushing me. I can't get enough of his kisses or the feeling of his thighs flexing, even when the familiar ache between my legs grows into something that won't be ignored. He knows what I need without me ever having to direct him. He seems to lose his mind the moment his tongue touches my breasts, moaning like he wants to consume me. He sucks almost to the point where pleasure becomes pain.

I cry out when he moves lower, his breathing and sounds just as potent in bringing me to orgasm as his fingers and tongue. His enjoyment is a big part of my pleasure.

Edward is the kind of lover every woman should have, a man I like to fuck without losing eye contact. I want to see every expression, every battle he fights against his release. I slow down and kiss until he has to take over and pound me because I love it. I love everything about sex with this man.

He is still very young, but he astounds me how quickly he's ready again. I only need to nestle myself between his legs for his eyes to grow as fast as his erection. One lick and he's mine to do with as I please. I take him to the edge and then stop, smiling as he awaits my next move. I get him to sit up so I can kiss him madly while I ride him. I bend over and let him do whatever he wants.

Edward is singing in the shower while I'm lazing in bed when I hear a car out front. Peeking out the window I cannot believe who I'm seeing getting out of the car.

Rosalie. Fucking. Hale.

As I'm scrambling to throw on some clothes, she bangs on the door. I think about hiding and letting her leave, but I know she'll be back. At least this way, my parents won't have to hear how much she has changed. I sing out that I'm coming, and she stops knocking. When I open the door, the look of surprise on her face is alarming. Do I look freshly fucked? Maybe I should have checked before I went downstairs.

"Hi," I say as if I was expecting her.

She wraps her arms around me effusively, "I read the blog and saw you were back. I got in yesterday. It's so great to see you." With a couple of pats on her back, I release myself from her ambitious embrace.

"You didn't let me know you were okay, Rose."

"Oh, you knew I'd be fine."

"Did I?" I ask, without interest.

"Of course you did. Now, are you going to invite me in?"

"Yeah, invite her in, Bella."

Turning, I see Edward already dressed, rubbing his head with a towel.

"What's he doing here?"

I answer by showing her my hand. She looks at the ring for a solid minute with her mouth gaping before she says anything. "You can't be serious."

"I'm very serious. We're getting married on Thursday."

Edward smiles and drapes his arm loosely over my shoulders. "Thursday."

"Are you pregnant?"

Scowling at her, I'm not going to dignify that question with an answer. Edward leaves it alone, too, seeing she's just as despicable as ever. Pushing her way past us, it's like she's unravelling, holding her forehead, unsure where to stand.

"Your father! He'll never permit this."

"I played golf with him Sunday. We seem to be hitting it off pretty well now. No pun intended."

"So he doesn't know about your past?"

"Yeah, he does, Rose, and he knows those days are over."

"You're full of bullshit, Cullen."

"You don't keep up, do you, Rose? It's Masen. You know, even though you hurt everyone important to me, I can't find it in my heart to hate you. If it wasn't for you, I don't know what would have happened. When Bella was so aloof I didn't think I stood a chance, you invited her to the beach that day. If you thought you were making her look uncool when you omitted telling her we'd all be naked, then it didn't work because she really got my attention in that sweet blue bikini. When I saw the way she looked at me, I got a boner in public, and it had nothing to do with the naked girl lying next to me. In a way, you thrust Bella in front of me and made me pursue her. Lucky for me, the more I got to know her, the more I wanted to go straight."

Edward wears the cheekiest smile, but Rose can't look at him. Her eyes are darting from the couch to the window as if her mind is racing.

"Then there's my best bud, Emmett. He would have done anything for you once, but you shit on him too. Lucky for Emmett, Tanya moved to London just as you dumped him, and even better, she was single. You do know they've been together since you left? I don't think I've ever seen him so happy. You're really quite the matchmaker, Rose, and once again, I get to benefit because Emmett's agreed to join me in London as my manager. He wants to stay with Tanya. We're all going to live together and have so much fun! My life couldn't be better, and it's all because of you."

I want to cheer and high-five him, but I'm nervous about Rose's silence and her lack of fight. She looks broken, smoothing her hair and clothes.

Coldly, she looks at Edward. "You know Bella had someone else in Europe." I gasp, seeing the vicious way she looks at him.

"You mean the snowboarder guy? I know about him."

Feeling like I need to sit down, I steady myself on the back of a couch. "Edward?"

He turns to me calmly. "It doesn't matter, baby, really."

"He meant nothing to me. It was just a fling," I plead.

"You were under no obligation to me. I was the one who left, remember?"

"His name was Jake," Rose continues, staring at Edward. "And she was with him for weeks."

"How long have you known this, Edward?" I ask.

"I think you were in Greece when I saw him. There were photos on Rose's Facebook wall, parties in Davos where he was with you, snowboarding events."

I'm confused, unsure how he saw the posts. "Were you friends with Rose on Facebook?"

"Nope."

"They were public?"

"Guess so. I saw them."

I glare at Rose who picks up her phone and keys. "You knew how I felt about photos like that in public."

"I gotta go." She straightens up as if she's steeling herself to go outside. There's no apology, of course. She has no remorse, one of the traits of the sociopath she is.

"Come on, Rose," Edward offers, opening his arms. "Aren't you going to give us a hug before you go? We might not see you again."

As soon as he takes a step toward her, she walks through the front door, then turns and stares at me. It's the kind of stare that should accompany something profound from her lips, but she just snorts and walks down the path.

Edward wraps his arms around me, and I watch her for a minute, feeling nothing for the girl I once thought was my friend. She doesn't even glance back at us, getting in her car and driving away.

 ** _Thanks for reading xo_**

 ** _There is an Island Nights' Edward POV coming up in the compilation for the Fandom For Mental Health Awareness. Please donate to this very worthy cause to get the outtakes, the futuretakes and new stories from many of this fandom's terrific writers!_**

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	22. Chapter 22

_**I dedicate this chapter to my mother.**_

 _ **Big thanks to three women who encourage, advise and fix the things that make my sentences so much better. Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley - I love you more than you know.**_

 _ **The reviews from the last chapter were amazing. I thank every one of you who sent feedback or just read.**_

* * *

 **Chapter 22**

I feel flat after Rosalie goes. It's not that I ever want to see her again. It's more that I recognize the flaw in my judgement—believing someone like that was my friend.

"You gotta let it go, babe." Edward looks concerned when we're making the beds. I nod, but I don't want to admit how I feel. I have all this unwarranted guilt about Jake when I didn't do anything wrong. "She's not worth your time."

Sighing, I finally respond, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Jake, but he wasn't much more than a friend."

"Please don't… We don't have to talk about him. I don't want to."

"Were you… Were _you_ with anyone else?"

He drops his shoulders and sits on the bed. "Would it make a difference?"

"No." I shrug, but I am wondering.

"There was no one else." I look in his eyes, searching for truth. "Cross my heart."

"Really?" Sitting down next to him, I touch his hair.

"I found out I don't get frisky when I'm pining away for someone." Leaning my forehead on his, it breaks my heart, thinking how alone he was. He tips up my chin and kisses me. "Hey, it was better that way, easier to focus." Then he smiles and rubs my back. "Let's go out and do something today, something unique to Seattle."

"You want to go up the Needle?"

"Hmm, we did the city yesterday. Something completely different?"

An appealing idea pops into my head. "We could go to Tillicum Village."

"What is it?"

"It's Native American—the birthplace of the Chief Seattle was named after. I haven't been there since school. We take a boat to Blake Island in the Sound, just south of the city."

"An island." He looks like he's imagining it. "Yeah, that sounds good."

We've missed the morning departure, so we book the four o'clock trip, giving us time to Skype with Tanya and Emmett. Tanya wants to know where we are getting married, saying she's in love with the ring. While Emmett gets down to business, discussing the work they've completed at the pub, she can't help barging in, excitedly telling us she sold two paintings. I already miss them so much I get a little emotional.

We try Carlisle next as they are closing the pub and laugh with Laurent and Angela who are full of congratulations. It seems everyone knew he was coming here to propose.

"Where's Newton?" Edward asks.

" _I don't trust him or like him, Edward. He's no longer working for Masen's."_

"Dad, we need more than two."

" _Settle down. We employed one of the candidates for the manager's job. Eric starts early."_

Edward gasps when he hears this. "Have you already seen people?"

" _Six so far. We have to interview them, but we won't find anyone better than Emmett."_

"Thank you, Dad. I owe you big time."

" _That's okay. You are going to deal with your sister in Italy."_

"Why? She'll be fine flying with me, won't she?"

" _Alice doesn't want to come home now."_

"What?"

" _Her grandmother is encouraging her to stay where they can keep a close eye on her. They're ganging up on me, son. Nonna is saying Alice needs the family."_

"The family." Edward delivers a fine mafia impression, gesturing with his hand.

I chuckle, but Carlisle ignores the humor. _"This is no joke, Edward."_

"Okay, okay. I'll bring her back."

" _Thank you. Now are you still leaving on Saturday?"_

"Yeah," he answers, reminding me how soon we could be parted again.

" _Any news on the visa yet?"_

"No."

"No news is good news, Carlisle," I interrupt, wanting to avoid this subject. "How is Siobhan?"

" _Very well, Bella, and may I be the first to welcome you to the family."_

"Thank you. Thursday's the day."

" _We'll see you soon and get some pictures. Talk later, huh?"_

I take over the laptop and check for an email alert on the progress of my visa. The last one came on Thursday, saying my application was in the queue to be processed. Frustrated, I fill in the online form to check on my status, and this website is now telling me they'll respond within one working day. I feel like screaming.

Edward asks, "Do you want to see any of your friends, like a girls' night out or something?"

He doesn't realize that being nice to me right now is as irritating as hell. "No. It's been over a year since I left, and I haven't kept in touch with my college friends. My two close girlfriends don't live in Seattle anymore."

"And no family here, right?"

I take a deep breath before I answer. "They're in Arizona. We don't have a big family."

"Dad's got hardly any family either, but Mom's tribe is huge." He slides his arms around my shoulders and kisses my cheek. "And you're coming with me to meet them."

Closing the laptop, I cup his cheek, trying to imagine what he sees and soaking up some of his optimism. They may be holding my passport until I get an answer on the visa, but it's not over yet.

* * *

Edward is watching seagulls ride the wind above our boat. With his arm around me, we listen to the tour guide's history lesson on Seattle before the settlers arrived.

Two dancers, wearing huge red and black bird heads, greet the boat when we dock at Blake Island. They're like crimson pelicans, in costumes made from fringes of fire-colored rope that highlight every movement they make. As they jump and twirl around each other on moccasined feet, I cringe, thinking they're going to crash their extravagant beaks into each other, but they manage them with incredible skill.

We walk up to the village, completely rebuilt since my school excursion. On arrival, they offer us what they describe as clam nectar, which Edward devours. We enter the longhouse and find salmon roasting, supported by pieces of wood leaned upright near the fire. The smell is amazing. There's a buffet of hot food ready, and we take our plates to eat during the performance.

The lights dim and more dancers with animal heads appear on a big screen. A real man walks out, reciting a story of the beginning of life when the spirits transformed into humans and animals and plants.

Surprisingly, there's a whole dance dedicated to the Sasquatch and the hunters who failed to deliver him. A lengthy segment follows about pushing the sky higher and the trials of bringing back the things that were lost in the process. I don't really understand it, but the final dance is magnificent—violent and loud—a beat I'm more used to, and I'm disappointed when it's over.

We wander around the complex for nearly an hour, always touching, talking to artists and watching their craft. Venturing along one of the short trails, we get caught in a shower of rain and huddle under a tree for longer than necessary. Then we crack up at the antics of an inquisitive raccoon who seems to be telling us it's time to leave. It's sunset when we cruise back to the city, and Edward kisses me gently, thanking me for another great day.

* * *

On Wednesday, the sun is shining, so Edward and I check out the beaches on Lake Washington and have lunch at a cafe. While he's enjoying the food and the scenery, I'm checking my phone, becoming more discouraged by the hour.

"We're getting married tomorrow," he says out of the blue, bringing me out of my gloom. Putting the phone down, I take his hand and stare at my ring.

The phone pings with the sound of an incoming email. Nervously, I look into Edward's eyes before I swipe the screen. It's the email I've been waiting for. The visa has been issued and will be dispatched within 72 hours.

It should be the best news I've ever read, and I should be jumping up and down, but 72 hours is too late.

Edward will be on a plane to Italy by then, and I'll get my delivery on Monday or Tuesday if I'm lucky. Now I wish I'd ignored Maggie's advice and paid for the priority service. I even took the cheaper option that delivered the package as far as my local post office, allowing UPS to convince me it was reliable. That was before Edward turned up and put the pressure on time-wise.

After all of his conviction that I was leaving with him, I'm actually not.

"Can you change your flights?" I ask as I hand him the phone.

"No," he answers with a frown, but I watch his face light up as he reads. He hugs me and breathes into my hair as if everything is resolved. "I won't need to."

He's very confident about something that can't possibly happen, reminding me it says " _within_ 72 hours" and to stop being negative. His delight in the news is so infectious, I eventually start to rejoice with him. Sending a text to Maggie to let her know I'm approved makes me laugh. I really have a job in London!

My good mood lasts until we arrive home. Before I can tell them about the visa approval, Mom asks where Edward is staying tonight.

"What do you mean, where?" I look at Dad and get his non-committal face.

"He can't stay here, Bella," Mom says with ridiculous certainty. "It's customary for the bride and groom to be parted before the marriage."

The negative feelings I've been trying to ignore are suddenly back with a vengeance. "That is superstitious bullshit, and you know it."

"Don't speak to your mother like that." Dad says calmly, as if I'm twelve.

"Mom, he's going to leave here in a couple of days."

"I don't care. It's only one night."

I snort, seeing how determined she is.

"I'll go. I don't mind," Edward intervenes to keep the peace.

"Then I'll go with him!"

"Calm down everyone," Dad interrupts. "It's not an unreasonable thing to ask."

Huffing, I storm out the back door and head for my swing. I hate that we're having this fight instead of celebrating. A few minutes later, Dad comes out, looking up at the sky as he approaches.

"You have to be grown up enough to realize she's upset about losing her daughter again."

"It's not fair, Dad. Edward doesn't know anyone here."

"Did you hear me, Isabella? Will you put yourself in her shoes for one minute?"

She has been great since Edward arrived. She welcomed him warmly, fed him, listened to what he said with genuine interest, helped us get the ring, probably even planned to give us that alone time. I nod, tears welling in my eyes.

"I have a compromise." As I wipe a tear from my cheek, he smiles. "You stay in your room until Edward and I leave in the morning, and we meet up at the courthouse."

Actually, I don't mind the sound of that. It feels right to separate while we get ready for the ceremony, and it does fulfil the conditions of the custom.

"Will she go for that?"

"If you apologize, I think I can guarantee it."

Giving into my tears, I stand and wrap my arms around his neck. With my cheek against his chest, I say, "Thank you, Dad. I love you."

"Oh…" He holds the back of my head and hugs me. "We both love you so much. We're going to miss you."

As Dad predicted, Mom does go for the compromise when I apologize, and I hit her with my news right away. She and I do the jumping up and down thing after all, and for a while, I let myself believe I'm leaving on Saturday.

We have a happy family dinner where they learn a little more about their soon-to-be-son-in-law. Unfortunately, Mom brings out photos I would have preferred not to share. They show a painfully thin and shy girl with braces—the ultimate geek—but Edward looks at each picture lovingly, asking where it was taken and who is in the photo with me.

After dinner, he wants to see what I'm bringing to the U.K., working out how much we can take between us. He's determined to forge ahead as if nothing can stop us. I do love this about him, but I'm going to crumble when I'm driving him to the airport.

* * *

The big day arrives, and the men are already gone by the time I wake up, taking the bag I left outside my room. The morning drags, and when no more emails come by lunchtime, I put the phone away to get ready.

At two o'clock, Mom is fixing my hair, curling and teasing, twisting sections into the soft roll she has perfected over the years. It has very few pins, mainly held together by a comb, and I have to remark on how talented she is. She blows me off, saying she never had an important career, but I want her to know how much I respect the skills she has acquired in her life. She is good at so many things I've never really given her credit for before.

When we were shopping, Mom suggested this hair accessory as a way to tie the marriage to the future wedding. She asked me to picture the comb holding my veil and I imagined the delicate spray of flowers and buds as a symbol of our growing love. Originally, I planned to get something practical, a dress I could wear many times. Having purchased the comb first, I looked at everything in a more romantic light, and for once, Mom and I were equally happy with what I chose.

Today I'm getting married in the most feminine dress I've ever owned. With pretty cap sleeves, it's fitted without being tight, knee length, and overlaid with ivory lace. The black velvet belt with its understated bow is just right since Edward is wearing his black slacks and white dress shirt. High black sandals finish my outfit perfectly.

"Here you go," Mom says with the sweetest smile, lending me her diamond earrings and bracelet. "This is all you need."

"You look great, Mom." Her hair is lovely after yesterday's cut and color, and she looks elegant in her simple dress and matching jacket.

Edward and Dad are already at the courthouse, speaking to the judge, when we arrive. It's a hot day for Seattle, and Dad runs a finger inside his collar, looking like he wished he hadn't worn a suit. Edward hasn't added anything to his outfit, not even a tie, and he looks fresh and relaxed. Actually, my breath hitches when I realize this handsome man will soon be my husband. The judge motions that we've arrived, and Mom goes to Dad's welcoming arms, pulling her close. She smiles when he says something privately to her.

Edward's eyes roam over me and, in a momentary lapse of civility, he comes over and kisses my cheek, running his hand down my back and over my ass. When he tells me I'm beautiful, I respond by blushing over his possessive touch.

While Mom sets up the video camera, Dad stands with the judge, who asks if we are ready. From the moment Edward takes my hands and grins at me, I feel emotion rise up in my throat. Stumbling over my responses, his smile grows bigger as I choke out my promises, crying. When I can't see to put the ring on his finger, I have to accept a tissue from Mom.

The judge declares us as husband and wife, and Edward holds my face, kissing my lips, my cheek and lips again, then the other cheek.

"I'm so happy," he says, taking me in an almighty hug that lifts me off the ground. Now I'm laughing at _his_ inability to contain his emotion.

Even with the photos we take, the whole thing is over in five minutes, and we leave for the Four Seasons. Edward and I are snuggling together in the back of Dad's car, comparing our new wedding rings, when Edward puts his lips to my ear.

"Oysters," he purrs, and I watch for Dad's eyes in the rear view mirror. "A dozen each."

"Okay," I answer, linking my arm in his.

"And you're my dessert," he adds, licking my ear.

"Shhh," I respond as softly as I can. He looks at me and smiles.

"I love your dress."

"Thank you."

"Lace," he says, running his hand over my thigh. "I didn't know before, but I like lace."

"Noted." I put a finger to his mouth, and he kisses it. After that, he behaves.

Edward takes in every detail of the Goldfinch Tavern. The wood and stone features frame a wonderful view of the water. It's a very modern space, but it doesn't have an industrial feel. The leather furniture is inviting, in keeping with the big hotel we're in.

After we toast with champagne, I ask, "What did you two do today?"

"Eighteen holes of golf, then lunch at Ray's Boathouse," Dad answers, smugly looking at Edward.

Narrowing my eyes at him, I pout. "I've still never been there."

"It's nice playing golf first thing in the morning." Edward smiles. "We'll have to play St. Andrews when you come over, Charlie."

"Oh, you're on," Dad points at Edward, challenging him. He must have told Edward to knock off calling him "sir" finally. Mom and I glance at each other, pleased to see they're getting along.

After our oysters, we have raw fish with olives and slivers of sweet red onion. My new husband takes his eyes off me only if someone asks him a direct question. We order a burger to taste and find that it's good, but Edward thinks his is better, now named "Jasper Sliders" on the menu—Masen's biggest seller. With some fantastic local white wine, we share the main course of marinated octopus, king crab pasta, roasted chicken, and seared sea scallops. As usual, everything is fresh and delicious.

When the waiter comes to take orders for coffee, a look passes between my parents. Dad holds his stomach and says he's done, requesting the bill.

It seems like I'm the only one who feels awkward when Edward doesn't offer to pay for the meal. It's not like Dad would have let him, but it doesn't fit with the Edward I know. "He's paying for the wedding," Dad says, and Edward chuckles, grabbing my hand. They've obviously had this discussion already, but I doubt Edward has won that battle.

"What time's your flight on Saturday?" Dad asks as he puts his arm around Mom.

"Two thirty. We've got a couple of hours in Frankfurt, but we should be in Stresa for dinner on Sunday."

"You still think Bella is going with you? You're cutting it close."

"Yeah, but it's only Thursday." Edward looks at me. "Did you hear anything today?"

"No, sorry. I don't think it's going to happen, babe."

"We'll see." He still looks so confident, I wonder what it will take for him to give up.

Mom and Dad hug me like it's the last time they'll ever see me. Mom hugs Edward too, but the interaction between the two men really touches me.

"Thanks for today," Edward says warmly, and Dad holds onto his arm in a genuine show of man-style affection that brings a lump to my throat.

Rather than leave straight away, Edward and I go over to a couch by the windows and relax.

"I do feel married," he says, gently touching the flowers that spray out from my comb.

"I do too. That wasn't so bad for a courthouse wedding."

"All the best days of my life I've spent with you, Bella."

I don't care that we're in public. I have to kiss him, and he surrounds me with his arms. When I start climbing his leg, he says it's time for us to leave.

Edward gives me the strangest look when we're waiting for the elevator. "How long has it been since you checked your email?"

"Ages, why?"

"Just check it for me will you?"

From my little purse, I take out the phone and swipe it, finding nothing new. When I shake my head, he frowns.

"You know I'll get it after the weekend."

"No, I know it's coming. I just thought it would be today."

"Why are you so sure?" As the elevator doors open, he takes my hand.

"Because Alice made me promise to bring you with me." I stare at him, waiting for him to explain. "You know I told you she's quirky? Well, sometimes she comes out with stuff we take notice of."

"Go on."

"She said she saw the three of us together in Stresa and we were both wearing new rings."

Something about this feels ominous. "You mean like a premonition?"

He shrugs and says, "Years ago she said she saw us in London together."

"You're _from_ England. Why is that remarkable?"

"At Masen's Pub. She used those exact words when I doubt she'd ever heard of a pub before. That building was a residence for fifty years, so how does she come up with it when I'm still in high school and have never thought about bartending in my life? I didn't even know it had been a pub until Pop died."

"Uh…" I'm at a loss for words. The doors open, and I follow him out to the street.

"So I'm going along with this. I choose to believe because I want it to happen." When he sees I'm still speechless, he adds, "Too weird? Should I have told you before you married me?"

I laugh a little. It's like all the tension I've been feeling is leaving me. "No, I'll go along with it too. Let's see what happens."

He envelops me in a hug. "Thank you. You don't know how much I love you."

A cab pulls in right next to us, and people get out. Edward leans in, asks if the cab is free, and it is. It's like Edward's positive energy is expanding all around us. I just hope it's enough to get my visa before Saturday because going to Lake Maggiore with him would be a dream come true.

When we get out at the hotel and see the terrace with its candlelit tables, Edward asks if I want a drink. I shake my head, and he smiles, leading me through the historic hotel to the elevators.

The room is lovely and roomier than I expected. Its baby blue walls and white shutters go beautifully with the antique-looking furniture and king-sized bed. The best thing is it's tidy, even though Edward and Dad got ready here earlier.

Edward sits on the bed as if he's waiting for me to approve. I leave my purse on the table and take off my sandals.

"There's no view, but they upgraded me to a junior suite when I said we were getting married."

"Good thinking," I say as I take off my earrings and bracelet. "I don't need to look out there when you're inside."

"Exactly," he responds with eyes raking over me. "C'mere."

"I've just got to get this comb out of my hair. I want to save it for our wedding."

"Oh." He looks like he missed the most obvious thing in the world as I pull it out and remove the pins. "Your hair looked beautiful today."

My hair falls to my shoulders, and I scratch my head, enjoying the sensation of freedom. I hitch up my dress and straddle him. "That's better."

"That _is_ better." He welcomes me with his arms and a gentle kiss. "Soft curls… and lace. Jesus, you're like a wet dream."

Running my fingers into his hair, I smile. "I am very happy with my choice of husband."

He hugs me tighter and groans, then takes my hand and kisses it. "Have I told you lately that I love you? Have I told you there's no one above you?"

I recognize the lyrics and sing the rest with him. "Fill my heart with gladness, take away my sadness. Ease my troubles, that's what you do."

The kiss that follows starts out slow, and I don't know if it's the oysters, but the attraction I have for this man's body builds fast. He moans loudly when I grind against him, hard as a rock underneath me. With his lips on my neck and his hands on my ass, I feel as sexy as his wet dream fantasy. I'll be anything he desires tonight, anything his mind can conjure up, because all I want is to show him I love him.

* * *

I wake with a wonderful feeling of contentment. Edward is wrapped around me, just as he was a few hours ago as he fell asleep mid-sentence. He was painting a picture of Lake Maggiore that had me dreaming of icy clear water and family.

Smiling at my new husband, I wonder what I would have said if someone had told me I'd be married at twenty-two. All I wanted was to travel and be a journalist. I never imagined I could have all this too.

There is much in my life to be grateful for, and a lot to look forward to. We have a property in Central London and great friends to share it with. It's going to be fun turning it into our home. I will miss our families, but I love that I now have a sister who's quirky and a father-in-law who is more like a friend. My own parents have shown nothing but love and support. They always have.

So many events came together to bring us to this point in our lives. Last night we talked about fate and timing: how we met so far from home, drawn to each other as friends, even when we knew we had no future away from the isolation of island life. Edward is still amazed he already had a job in the U.K. when his grandfather died and left them the house in Covent Garden. I didn't know he was diving when we ended our trip early in Paris, but we landed back in London on the same day he returned after a whole month on the ship.

If Edward is right, there's going to be a message on my phone today, telling me I have a package to pick up. There's a certain spookiness about it, but I want to believe.

"What are you thinking about?" I look over and see a pair of green eyes trained on me.

"Today, the future, things I'm grateful for, what marriage is going to be like."

He pulls me closer until our noses touch. "You're still my girlfriend. I don't want anything to change."

Pushing his hair back, I smile. "I don't mean that. I'm going to be working, and we need so many things."

"You're already in charge of buying furniture. I know you're sensible."

Wrapping a leg around him, I act like I'm asking permission. "Can we please get a television for our room?"

"Oh, I can just see it now—Emmett and I slaving over the bar and you and Tanya upstairs, hooked on British soaps."

I start to giggle. "I won't! I like Graham Norton and Game of Thrones and... Outlander... well, that goes without saying."

"Outlander... You like a man in a kilt?"

"Yeah, obviously."

He pulls me even closer. "Well, I like a girl in a lace dress with no undies." He's smirking, like he's reliving last night.

Feeling the erection happening between us, I smirk right back. "I kinda gathered that... Hey, you could wear a kilt to our wedding!"

"Uh, no darl, that would make me a tosser," he says in a cockney accent. "Am noh Scot and am noh pretendah," he adds in an even better Scottish voice, making me laugh.

"We could have a private ceremony." I kiss him quickly and add, "McMasen and Masen."

With a curious frown, he asks, "Are you changing your name?"

"Hmm, I'm thinking about it. Isabella Masen. Bella Masen. It's better than Swan."

I move to get up, and he tightens his hold on me. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I want to check my phone. The message might have arrived."

"The post office won't be awake for a while, baby, and we have a late checkout."

"I just want to see."

He holds on. "Trust me, Bella, it's not going to come until the post office opens. That's not how it works."

"How do you know how it works?"

"Because this is not magic. Real people make it happen."

"But I want to check!"

"Jesus, woman, I am not above pinning you down and making you submit." He looks at me with eyes blazing, and all thought of leaving this bed is gone.

"I'd like to see you try, Masen."

With an evil laugh, he locks our fingers together, pushing my hands above my head. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah..." It's all I get out before he smothers me with a kiss.

* * *

Checking out of the hotel, I'm a bundle of nerves. I can't even look at the man on the counter, worried he's going to inform us there's been a complaint. It was only six o'clock, and we were so loud and… Oh, God.

When the man hands over the receipt and warmly thanks us for choosing to stay at the Hotel Sorrento, I feel like an idiot. I know this is stress. It's noon, and there's still no message to say I have a package to collect.

"What do you want to do, Edward? It's your last day."

"We need to get your stuff to the post office, don't we?" He's right. Even if I'm not going tomorrow, we should get that out of the way, so Mom and Dad don't have to deal with it. I nod, and he smiles as we get in the car. "Don't give up, okay?"

When he leans over and kisses me, I want to believe. I really do. If only these gremlins in my stomach would give me a break.

Edward is going to take a large suitcase, so that leaves us with three boxes and Tanya's paintings to take to the post office for shipping. Two boxes are full of my winter stuff.

"We're expecting a UPS delivery for Bella Swan," Edward says to the woman at the counter. "Any chance you could check if it's arrived?"

She hardly glances up. "They won't have been sorted yet. You'll get a text."

"Please? It's really important." His voice is soft but deep enough for her to show interest.

I watch her, wavering over the fact that it's probably not her job. Then he leans down very close and hits her with a smile so dazzling, she grabs onto the counter. Flustered, she disappears through the doors at the back. He winks, and we wait for an eternity until she returns with a large envelope and looks at me. "Do you have your I.D.?"

Glancing at Edward, I smile at her. "I sure do." A couple of signatures later, I'm opening my package to find my passport with the page everything hinges on. I can't stop staring at it!

Edward thanks her, and she coyly says it's nothing. She even smiles when he lifts me and twirls me around as I hold my purse in one hand and the envelope and passport in the other. My head is full of everything I've been holding back, and I cannot believe how fantastic I feel.

He carries me all the way to the car, kissing me before putting me down. Shaking with excitement, I ask him to drive. First I call Mom, who tells me it's great news, but I hear emotion in her voice. Then I call Dad who may or may not have people with him when he congratulates me and says he'll see me at home later. The last call is to Maggie who says it's brilliant and asks if I want to start earlier than September 1st.

"I could start in a week!" I babble out ideas I've had about tourist London, a short stay in Seattle, and our visit to Lake Maggiore on the way home. She laughs and tells me to enjoy the rest of my vacation. When I hang up, I'm aware I didn't sound professional, but I'm just so happy it's hard to contain myself. The best thing is I no longer have to hover over my phone, and I put it away to rest my hand on Edward's thigh.

Suddenly, I realize something we've overlooked. "I don't have any flights booked."

"Yes, you do. I booked yours at the same time I got mine."

I gasp. "You are kidding me."

"Nope." His grin is so triumphant, I can't be angry with him for what I think is reckless. In the space of a week, Edward has taken care of everything. We're married, he's built a relationship with my parents, and he's been wonderful, helping me through the worry of getting my visa.

It feels like we've come full circle, starting the adventure of our lives in the place we daydreamed about during our first real conversation.

Lago Maggiore, Stresa, Isola Bella - here we come.

 _ **Thanks for reading xo**_

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	23. Chapter 23

_**We're all allowed a chapter of indulgence, and this is mine. There is usually a particular scene I have in my head, one I write towards, and this one found it's place in here, finally.**_

 _ **You would not believe the advice I needed (and received) from the two L's and Pa on all things Catholic and Italian. Thanks! There's a little more to come, too.**_

 _ **To my team who help me restrain and write better paragraphs, I thank you so much. Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley - you know I love you.**_

 _ **The reviews last chapter were amazing. To all who are still reading, thank you also.**_

* * *

 **Chapter 23**

Mom's eyes are red when we arrive back. She pulls me into a hug, and we're wiping tears when we finally let go and laugh at ourselves.

We call Alice with the news we are both coming to Italy. There are no sounds of surprise and delight, just a hasty request for the flight number and the time we'll arrive at Malpensa. I want to ask what she saw, how she knew this would happen, but she says she must go as her friends are waiting.

Edward shakes his head when she hangs up. "I've never known Alice to have friends."

"She gets along well with Jasper."

"Dad's not encouraging that friendship. He's three years older than her."

"How old is Alice?" Mom asks.

"Fourteen," Edward replies.

"I agree with your father. That's an impressionable age."

Talking about friendships reminds me there's something I'm going to do before we go. Checking out Rosalie's Facebook page, I scroll through the photos she posted, ready to demand she remove any I don't like. She's so full of herself, uploading selfies with various men as she partied her way across Spain. There are shots of her and Emmett looking happy as they toured around England. At least she stopped while we thought James was stalking us. I save some photos she took from our Cosmos tour, reminding me of happier times.

The images of Jake are innocent—none of us kissing, and only a couple showing affection. Edward tells me to ignore them, saying any more contact with Rose is a bad idea. I unfriend her from my personal Facebook and block her access to the blog. I feel good doing it, too. With a few clicks, Rosalie Hale and her alter ego, Blush, are out of my life for good.

I grab Mom's camera to copy yesterday's video and photos to the laptop. What we have is a good record of the day to show family and friends, and I'm pleased my parents are in the photos with us, looking happy and proud.

When Dad comes home, we watch the video on the television, showing what a mess I was at the courthouse. It's funny now, seeing Edward smiling at me while I stumble and stutter, and I make a promise to myself that when we have a real wedding, I will do better than this.

We talk about the future and agree it's time to sell my car. Mom says they might come over for Christmas, nudging Dad, who shrugs in agreement. After dinner, we settle in the living room, watching TV on our last night together—the way things have always been in this house.

"I need to finish packing and go to bed," Edward announces, touching my thigh. "Long day tomorrow."

"Yeah, me too." Dad is already dozing in front of the television, and Mom hardly acknowledges us, saying she'll see us in the morning. It feels weird saying goodnight and sleeping together under the same roof as my parents, but one ceremony and a piece of paper is apparently enough for Edward to become part of the family.

We both know there's no packing to do. Instead, we brush our teeth and shower together, washing each other reverently. I pick up my pajamas, feeling uncertain for a second, putting them back when Edward slides into bed naked. We lie there, facing each other, hesitant to make the first move. I'm the one who gives in, touching his chest, his arm, following the lines of his back that seem to go on forever. He pulls me close, kissing my forehead, and I sink into the warmth of his body.

When I look up, he cups my face and kisses me, sliding his hand down my neck and over my breasts. "So soft." I close my eyes from the sensation, then he takes a nipple into his mouth, rolling me on my back, kissing and licking my breasts. "Can you stay quiet?"

"I think so," I reply through a heavy breath, spreading my legs as his fingers explore.

"I love you," he whispers, and his tongue meets mine. As he strokes my clit, I wrap myself around him, inviting him to enter me. He continues, circling my most sensitive place while he moves inside me, and I lose my mind, kissing him passionately. I roar toward an orgasm that unlocks me physically and mentally and sends him spiraling into his own release.

Panting, we grin and settle in each other's arms, satisfied, happy, and ready to sleep.

* * *

When we say goodbye, Dad has his arm around Mom, and she's trying to be brave. Seeing her like that stays with me long into the flight, and I can't sleep. We were late leaving Seattle, then caught in the line of planes coming into Frankfurt, so we have to run like hell to make the flight to Milan.

Expecting to take the train from the airport, the man holding the "Masen" sign is a great surprise, but Edward approaches him cautiously. The man says the word, "Joey," and hands over a business card before Edward relaxes and thanks him. We give him my bag and he leads us to a large black sedan, immaculate inside and out, with a scent of lemon masking the smell of cigarettes coming off the driver.

He speaks English, although the grammar is out of order, and he's friendly, pointing out places of interest for us. Malpensa Airport is northwest of Milan, so the drive will only take fifty minutes. I just have to text Mom and tell her we're traveling in style.

At Sesto Calende, we get our first glimpse of the lake, but it doesn't last long, replaced by high stone walls, hedges, and groups of cyclists heading south. There are a variety of buildings, from tiny boxes to grand villas with steep terraced gardens and stone columns.

Once we pass through the town of Arona, the road hugs the western side of the lake. The water sparkles, an incredible shade of blue. Edward kisses my temple, and I sigh, leaning into him, wondering how I'm so lucky.

I keep saying the names to myself the correct way—Stray-za, not Stressa. Lah-go Mah-jor-eh, not Maj-ee-oree like I thought—I don't want to sound ignorant. Edward hasn't been here for a dozen years, and he doesn't speak Italian, so I ask him, "How do you know how to pronounce the names correctly?"

"I don't know any different," he answers simply, and I kiss his cheek. Soon he squeezes my hand and says, "We're almost there, baby." I feel like I'm going to bounce right out of my seat when I see a medieval Roman watchtower, and I open the window to feel the breeze on my face.

Passengers from two tourist buses snap photos of the breathtaking panorama—the lake and the surrounding mountains. At first I think I'm seeing snow, but I soon realize it's limestone. The sign for Stresa appears, and my stomach flips, full of butterflies, as cars crowd both sides of the road.

The marina comes into view with a ferry waiting at the end of a tree-lined jetty, the parking lot crammed with tiny cars and motorcycles. From the map, the lake always looked long and narrow, but it's wide at this point on its journey from Switzerland, miles over to the towns on the other side.

Stresa itself is obviously a major vacation destination, a magnificent promenade of palm trees and expensive-looking hotels with names like "Regina Palace" and "Grand Hotel Des Isles Borromees". They are all built in a similar cream-colored style with every balustrade adorned in red or deep pink geraniums. Their gardens are incredible.

Before I know it, we've gone past the town, and I realize how small it is, a burst of splendor that finishes quickly. The driver takes a roundabout and doubles back, pulling in to drop us in front of The Grand Hotel Bristol.

"Mass, six o'clock," he says, expecting us to get out. "I take your bags."

"Where are we staying?" Edward asks.

"Joey's."

Edward nods, getting out and coming around to open my door. "Sounds like we're going to Mass."

"Like church?" I'm scrambling to make sure I have our passports and phone in my purse before I get out.

"Yeah, but we have time to stretch our legs." He takes my hand, and we cross the road.

"Who is Joey?" Watching a stranger drive off with our bags and my paperwork makes me agitated, but I have to trust Edward.

"Technically speaking, he's my second cousin, but I call him uncle. He's okay. He was always nice to me."

Now I take in what's in front of us and squeal softly, hardly able to believe we're here, so close to the tiny island that once tormented me. It's stunning and just a few hundred yards from the shoreline.

"Eee-so-la-Bella," he says, wrapping his arms around me.

"I remember that night when you first told me about this place."

"So do I, and we'll go there tomorrow if you want," he sighs, enjoying this as much as I am.

We wander along the water, looking at memorials, fountains, and restaurants, stopping to buy gelato. Once we pass the big hotels, I can see up alleyways into the real town behind, where piazzas are filled with people, souvenir shops, and cafes, Italian flags strung up everywhere.

It's gorgeous—everything I imagined, only better—and I'm thrilled to be here.

The bells toll, calling the residents of Stresa to mass. The church that looks like a town hall is directly opposite the ferry terminal, and we cross back over the road. People begin to arrive, and there is emotional hugging, introductions, words I don't understand. It doesn't matter because they are all pleased to see Edward. He points out Nonna as she comes out of the church, an elegant woman dressed in black, with very short gray hair. She looks so proud when she sees her grandson, kissing his cheeks and studying his face. She talks to him in flawless English, telling him he's too skinny, and welcomes me with a smile and a hug.

A minivan stops to let out three girls and a woman. At first, I don't recognize Alice who is wearing a modest dress with her hair pinned back on one side. I've only ever seen her in shorts or jeans. The two girls with her are dressed almost identically, and they entwine their arms in hers. Deeply tanned and radiant, her face lights up when she sees us. She wants to show her companions our rings, delighted to introduce them as her cousins, Valentina and Sienna.

When we enter the church, Edward dips his fingers in the water of a stone font and crosses himself. He lights a candle and places it amongst many others. I'm not sure if everyone is supposed to do this or if it's a very personal thing so I turn away.

The bland facade of the church hides an interior of towering arches and beautiful polished stone. The only windows are up high, but the late western sun illuminates angels painted on the ceiling, presiding over statues of Christ on the cross and the Virgin Mary. Exquisite paintings adorn the walls of the dome that encompasses the altar, but I don't have a clue what they represent.

During the service, I stand when everyone stands and kneel when they kneel. They recite prayers I don't understand. The priest must be an entertaining speaker because laughter sometimes ripples through the crowd. If someone looks over at us, I smile back at them. Then there's complete silence when the priest walks up, opening his arm as if he wants us to follow him.

"The blessing," Nonna says quietly, attempting to explain what's going on. I look at Edward, and he smiles, saying the priest is going to bless our marriage, and leads me to stand before the altar. I'm mortified we're dressed in jeans while the priest places our left hands on top of each other then covers them with his own. He mumbles something to himself, makes the sign of the cross over our hands and then in the air above us.

That's it. The priest's eyes twinkle as a cue it's over. We go back to our seats, and I have this weird feeling I've just been cheated out of my real wedding.

Two young men appear slowly from the sides of the dome, leaving things on the altar. The priest pours wine into a silver goblet and offers it up with a prayer. The congregation flows into the aisle, but Edward asks me to wait with Alice while he joins his family. Not everyone goes up for communion, and I feel a kind of camaraderie with those of us left out of the ceremony.

After another short prayer, we leave the church and walk out to the magnificent view in front. Everyone turns left, walking together, until we enter the side gate of someone's home, where tables and chairs are already set up in the back yard. Nonna asks us to sit with her while Alice takes the next table with her cousins. She is animated and laughing, actually speaking Italian, and looking very comfortable amongst her family. Like a sponge, she's picked up the language in two weeks of immersion. Edward is watching her, smiling at the changes we're witnessing.

Bottles of wine, baskets of bread, and platters of antipasto arrive to the sound of a cacophony of Italian voices. Edward pinches an olive for himself before serving us, and Nonna winks at me. I wonder if she trained him—how he knows to do this, why he comes around to open my car door or any other door, and allows me through first. Whoever did, I am certainly grateful to them.

Families sit down with us, one after the other, bringing children, wine, and plates of pasta, filling Edward in on what's been happening in their lives for the last decade. Most of them speak English well, and none of them treats me like a stranger. When I get up to gather the plates, they tell me I am a guest of honor.

I feel like I'm in a scene from My Big Fat Greek Wedding when it dawns on me how many people are called Joe or Esmeralda. By the time the third course arrives, I have to ask.

"How come everyone has the same name?"

Nonna chuckles, and Edward glances at her, blowing out a deep breath as if I've asked him something complicated. He looks up as if he's trying to find the simplest way to explain.

"Here, children take the Christian name of their grandparents, paternal side first, then maternal. My great-grandparents on my grandfather's side were Giuseppi and Esmeralda, and they had a dozen kids, so at Mom's level, there are tons of Giuseppis and Esmeraldas. Then they have to find a way to distinguish themselves from each other. Mom called herself Esme. There are lots of boys, so they go by Joe or Little Joe or Joey or Sep. After that, they take on a nickname—something unique to them, like pasta Joe, fruit shop Joe, pizza Joe, coffee Joe, even Fiat Joe if his passion is driving Fiat cars. I know it sounds like madness, but that's how it is."

"Where does your name come from?" I ask, reeling from his explanation.

"Mom and Dad broke with tradition slightly since we're "watered-down" Italians. My English grandparents on Dad's side were Edward and Alice. Nonno was Antonio and Nonna is Goia." He takes his grandmother's hand. "I'm Edward Anthony, and my sister is Alice Joy, but Mom's brother's two kids are…"

Nonna makes a sound of disapproval, like she's not happy he's mentioned the American family, but I continue, wanting to confirm I understand. "Antonio and Goia."

"You got it, babe. He calls himself Tony. He's a few years younger than me."

I should be writing this down because it's so confusing. "So… If you have three boys, what do you call the third one?"

"Anything you want," Nonna answers with a grin. Everyone laughs, and I can't help joining in.

The next family leaves for their own table, and Edward pours more wine. Leaning in close, I ask, "Do you want to have kids? We should have discussed this before we jumped into marriage."

He rubs his nose against mine. "Yeah, but not for a while, and we're definitely not going with Carlisle and Esmeralda."

He makes me burst into laughter again.

"Nice evening, Zia." The woman who came out of the minibus with Alice kisses Nonna and sits down with us.

Edward kisses her cheek and looks around. "Bella, this is Mary. Where's Joey? I haven't seen him yet."

"I don't know. I haven't seen him either." I realize she's English.

"Are we staying at your place tonight?" Edward asks with a frown.

"I don't live there anymore. Just… don't expect too much, okay? Welcome to the family, Bella."

She soon stands to leave and calls out "Valentina, andiamo." Valentina drops her shoulders but obediently gets up and joins her mother.

"Have they split up?" Edward asks, and Nonna nods. "Wow."

"I knew you'd make it," Alice announces smugly and sits down with us. "Isn't this the most beautiful place in the world?"

"It's a pity we have to take you back." Edward answers as if he's sizing her up.

"Oh, I'm not leaving. I'm going to high school here."

Nonna looks as though the decision has already been made. "I don't want her going back to America when she belongs with us."

Edward snorts. "Dad will be awfully lonely on his own."

"If he hadn't taken my daughter to America, he wouldn't be on his own." Without a comeback, Edward runs his hand through his hair. "I am not making the same mistake again."

"It's dangerous everywhere, Nonna. It wasn't his fault."

"Dangerous… Did you know Alice was thirteen when she was offered drugs at a party?"

We both look at Alice as if we've been blindsided. "When was this?" Edward asks.

"Last year," Alice answers. "When Dad went to Jacksonville."

"You stayed with Uncle Joe's family."

"Goia took me to the party."

"That woman does not supervise her children. If I can get them back here too, I will." Nonna straightens up as if she's getting ready for battle. "Alice must complete the Sacraments of Initiation. You don't attend Mass, and you don't even celebrate her birthday. She goes home on her own to an empty house every day. If she stays here, one of us will take the girls to school and pick them up. We will ensure they do their homework and keep them away from drugs and boys."

"I am staying," Alice says confidently, bolstered by her grandmother's conviction. "Istituto Tecnico Economico and Technology, Ferrini." She shows off with perfect pronunciation.

"There are many good schools in Verbania," Nonna adds.

Alice leans forward and stares into Edward's eyes. "Everyone here accepts me as I am. The only reason I'm different is that I'm American."

They look at each other for a while before Edward speaks. "Dad has to decide this." Now I see why Carlisle said they were ganging up on him. I feel sorry for Edward.

"Then speak to your father." Nonna gets up to go inside, and Alice stands when she returns. She holds Edward's cheek and says, "It's lovely having you back here, coo-choh-loh, and you, Bella. See you tomorrow."

"Buona notte," Nonna calls out to those still remaining, most of whom return her farewell.

The level of noise has died down since many have left, and I'm suddenly tired to the bone, trying to work out how long I've been awake. "Do you want to go?"

Someone is right behind us, placing his hands on our shoulders. "Oh, no, no, no. One more vino." It's one of the "Joes," and he's tipsy.

Edward looks at me, and I nod, not wanting to insult anyone. "Okay, just one."

One turns into two, and then their English gets sloppy. I'm ready to leave on my own, but I don't know where we are staying.

"Please, can we go?" I ask in a quietly pleading voice, and thankfully, Edward agrees.

"Ciao," he says, and those left raise their glasses and wave as we leave.

"I've gotta remember this," Edward says, laughing. "It's all twos. Two blocks up from the church and two streets back, then up two flights of stairs."

At least it doesn't sound far, and the town is still alive with people eating and drinking. There's a loud group singing some Italian song I've never heard. We have to search back and forth for the opening where the stairs go up, but once we're at the top, Edward looks around as if we've come to the wrong place. A sheet of heavy blue plastic flaps in the breeze, protecting the roof up high.

"Oh, shit," he says as we walk up the driveway.

"What… what does that mean?"

"I don't know. It's damaged." Edward bangs loudly on the door. "Where the fuck was he tonight? Joey!"

"Mary did say not to expect much, and I don't want to cause them any trouble. All I want is a shower and bed."

The man who opens the door is in his forties, with longish hair, graying at the temples. "Coo-choh-loh!" He hugs Edward, using the same name Nonna called him. "Mi dispiace," he says to me then looks at Edward. "I'm sorry, I did not know you had a new wife until tonight."

"What's happened to your hotel?"

The echoing hallway tells us there are no guests staying here, and this is no hotel. It's run-down in the worst kind of way, neglected and needing repairs. We follow him to a large living room and a sight that makes me gasp. In front of us, Isola Bella is glowing with lights, with the whole marina before us. We're looking over the town, and none of the big hotels are spoiling the view.

Why would he let something like this go to rack and ruin? Is this the result of a failed marriage in Italy?

"Tell me, Joey. Is the limousine business dying? Are you broke?"

"No," the poor man answers. "I've been fighting with the builder. He sued me. I sued him back. Now no one will take the job." Edward frowns at him, not accepting the answer. "The roof is open, and now there are birds. Mary won't live here."

With a snort, Edward says, "I don't blame her."

Feeling like I'm intruding, I have to go to bed. "I'm sorry, but do we have somewhere to sleep? I'm so tired."

"Scuzi. In here." He turns on the overhead light in a big room with the same view of the lake. Edward follows him out, asking more questions, and I look around. There's nothing really wrong with it, other than it looks tired. The towels he's left out smell fresh. The sheets are clean. Even the pillows don't smell bad. The floor is spotless, as are the windows, but the woodwork is worn.

Finding an outlet near a side table, I plug in my power strip for the phone and laptop to charge. The bathroom is clean, but the ornate tiles are chipped and cracked. The mirror is disintegrating under the glass. This whole place is crying out for help. It's sad, but it's not our problem.

In half an hour, I'm showered and in my pajamas. The bed is very comfortable, and I can even lean back on the pillows and still see the lake. From this angle, it's quite magical. You can't see the town at all, and it feels like you're at the same level as the twinkling lights. I can't help thinking how much money he's losing by leaving the hotel in this state because this could have been the best hotel room I ever stayed in.

* * *

A ferry horn wakes me, announcing an imminent departure. Edward is sitting on a chair, looking out. Getting up on my elbows, I watch a boat pulling away from Isola Bella.

"I wonder who I would have been if Mom hadn't met Dad. I probably would have lived here."

"Are you thinking about what your grandmother said last night?"

"Yeah, Mom could still be alive."

I get up and sit in his lap. "Did you light that candle for her yesterday?"

He nods and surrounds me with his arms. "It preserves her memory."

"You preserve her memory when you think of her. She would be so proud of you and Alice."

"Do you think Alice should stay here?"

I have to be careful with my answer because this is not my battle, and I can see both sides. "I think it's worth considering."

"She's so damn confident. If Dad says no, do we drag her back to London kicking and screaming?"

My mind takes a scary leap ahead. The airline has already refused her as an unaccompanied passenger. If she causes a scene, they might turn us away from the flight.

"We should observe her, take her out with us today." We need to know what we're dealing with before we go anywhere near the airport.

He holds on to my waist as I stand up in a mild panic. "It's such beautiful weather, baby. We could take the cable car up the mountain. Did you know you can ski half an hour from here when it snows?"

His look of joy calms me so much, I have to kiss his head. "Oh, Edward. This place just keeps getting better and better. If I were Alice, I wouldn't want to go back either."

"I'll have to call Dad."

"Why don't you wait until later? We didn't really see much of her last night."

"Okay… well, I'll call Alice."

Alice tells us they've closed the cable car for repairs. It's disappointing but Mary offers to drive us to the summit, so we make arrangements to meet at Nonna's. Mary and the two girls will join us.

I come out of our room to the sound of Italian radio and the smell of strong coffee. Joey is talking on his phone, but he soon hangs up. "Buongiorno, Bella."

"Buongiorno. I'm sorry about last night. I meant no disrespect, but I was exhausted."

Joey shakes his head as if it's nothing, and Edward appears with a backpack and our two jackets. "We might need these up there. Let's go."

"Going out?" Joey asks, handing over a key to the hotel.

"We're taking the girls up to Mottarone," Edward replies.

"Is my Valentina going?"

"Yeah, I believe so."

He pulls out his wallet and hands over a two hundred Euro bill. "Use this," he says with a sorrowful look. Edward doesn't want to accept it, but Joey insists. "They have to eat. Have some fun."

We walk down the driveway, and Edward turns around. "Just look at it. This has been going on for three years."

Now I witness the scale of the disaster the builder left for Joey. Apart from the huge problem with the roof, the building is not safe because the upper balcony has no railings. The outer stairs have been partially removed, still on the ground and rotting with grass growing up through the debris. Joey is up there, gazing out the window, looking broken and sad, and I feel like there should be someone in the family who can help him regain his wife and daughter.

Edward sighs like he's deep in thought, then smiles as he takes my hand.

The problem with Italy, or perhaps its biggest draw, is that everywhere you go the food smells amazing. After an espresso, we find the perfect pasticceria and buy a selection of pastries. Everyone descends on them once we're at Nonna's.

It's a small but stylish home where she displays a passion for orchids. A blue parrot is loose in the room, chatting away to itself. Alice calls it "Campanula" and smiles when it repeats the word back to her. We meet Nonna's chihuahua, Coco, who never leaves her arms as we tour the courtyard garden. Nonna won't come with us, happy to wave us goodbye, saying she's seen enough of Mottarone for one lifetime.

It doesn't take long for the buildings of Stresa to become forest on both sides. Occasionally, as we climb, there are glimpses of the lake through the trees and I'm sorry we missed the panorama from the cable car. At the top, the view is out of this world—lakes and mountains as far as you can see. There are remnants of an old chairlift and restaurants that look like they are being refurbishing as well.

"The water is the most amazing color." I can't help but be awestruck by the incredible sight. Now I can see why the lake is so wide here, branching off into another body of water just north of Stresa. Edward tells me Verbania, where Alice thinks she's going to school, is the land jutting out in the middle.

Communication towers crown a grassy hill and Edward beckons me to walk up with him. When we reach the summit, I'm glad we have the jackets because the wind coming off the snow-sprinkled Alps is cold. They seem to go on forever, vast swathes of the earth thrust up by unimaginable tectonic events.

I gaze at the horizon. "I was less than a hundred miles from Locarno last winter. I used to think of you all the time when I saw it on the map."

He looks out over the mountains and sighs, deep in thought. When we turn around, the girls are waiting for us and we see a metal bobsled track below us.

"Alpyland," one of the girls sings out.

"Please?" Alice begs.

Edward, places his arm over my shoulder. "I'm definitely going on that," he says, nibbling my ear. With a mischievous smile, he says, "Bobsled time," and the girls squeal with delight.

Edward Masen can be a lot of things: charming, sexy, tenacious, inspiring. He can also be the biggest kid on the planet. After he lovingly checks I'm strapped in, one trip down that bobsled track is enough—Edward doesn't use brakes. Even when I'm screaming in actual terror, he's oblivious, hollering and having the time of his life. I let him talk me into staying on until we're back at the top, but that's where I leave with Mary, just as relieved she is no longer required as the fourth rider. Alice takes my spot for the next downhill run, showing she's fearless like her brother. I wonder if they've ever done anything like this together before.

"So many years have flown by," Mary says, watching Alice's arms in the air. "The last time Edward was here, he was a child."

"He seems close with Joey."

"We gravitated toward the Masens because I was English. Carlisle, Esme, and Edward often stayed with us on vacation, and we visited them in Chicago. Joey loved Edward, but we only met Alice once before..."

I see her eyes slipping into a dark memory. "What was Esme like? Carlisle told me the story of how they met, but Edward doesn't talk about her at all."

"Beautiful to look at, stylish, headstrong, funny, smart. She adored her son, and now I see how much he looks like her. I once tried to talk her into moving here, but she didn't love it like I do. I could never leave and go back to England."

Looking out and seeing the lake far below, I can understand her falling in love with Italy. It's that kind of country, but my future lies somewhere else.

"Honestly, I can't wait to get back to London. I'm starting work soon, and Edward's pub is amazing. I have to show you the photos."

Mary scrolls through the history of the renovations, obviously impressed. "What do you do for a job?"

Proudly, I can finally answer. "I'm a journalist."

"Our dream was to run a small hotel here," she says with a bitter laugh. "And we came so bloody close."

"That room we stayed in last night was incredible."

"At the front on the right?"

"Yes, and it's not just a room, it's an experience, like floating on the water."

"He must have spent last night cleaning it for you." She snorts. "He got off his arse."

"What will it take to get the work going again? He said no one wants the job."

"No one here, that's for sure. We only have a population of five thousand, so everyone in the trade knows about the legal action. My husband is a proud man, and now they either don't turn up to quote, or they add an extra fifty thousand Euros just to piss him off. We were prevented from touching the building until the final judgement, and now we're nowhere again. I love him, but I've given up trying to pull him out of his depression. He has to find his own way to get his passion back."

"Edward said Carlisle was depressed for a long time, but I don't see it now. Maybe they should talk."

"I don't think men do that, do they? Anyway, Carlisle had a real reason."

"What will happen if Alice doesn't go back with him?"

"Oh, I'm keeping out of that one. Valentina wants her to stay."

My phone beeps with an incoming text. "We've just finished our final run. See you soon."

We don't have to wait long for our bobsledders to race up the hill, red-cheeked and panting. "That was awesome," Edward says with a beaming smile.

"I never realized he's crazy," Alice adds with a laugh.

It takes them a while to settle down, sharing the selfies they took. Nonna and Carlisle will love the photos of Alice and Edward. They tell stories that make Mary and I look at each other, staggered to hear of children as young as nine legally riding _that_ bobsled without an adult.

As we drive back down the mountain, Edward asks, "Isola Bella?" I nod, but the others aren't interested, so they drop us off at the ferry stop right opposite the island.

When we board the ferry, I know I'm about to fulfill a dream, and my heart starts to pound in my chest. Looking at the island, I'm not sure this is really happening when I still feel that longing to find him here, even though he is here. The announcement comes over the speakers, "Isola Bella, Isola Bella," and I know I want to recreate what was in my head more than anything else.

I hang back in the crush to leave the vessel so he's waiting for me on the island's jetty, exactly as I imagined, and now I don't want this moment to end. It's just like when he got out of that black cab in London, or took me to show me his pub, or when he turned up in Seattle to marry me. He made those things happen, just as he brought me here on this glorious day.

A significant moment in my life is happening, and I raise my phone to capture it. I'm not sure I knew I could feel this happy or how much emotion I had bottled up over this one event.

"Señora?" One of the crew is waiting to untie the rope.

"Sorry." I wipe my eyes and walk down the gangplank.

Edward is watching me. "Everything alright, baby?"

"I have to kiss you to make sure you're real."

I don't give him a chance to respond. My hands grab his hair, and I crash my lips into his. The whistles from the boat don't deter me when my need for him is so strong. It's like everything falling into place at once, like I always knew we would be together eventually, and I somehow willed it to happen. It comes with the absolute certainty that anything is possible if you want it enough.

"So am I real?" he asks, with a surprised look on his face.

Nodding, I tidy his hair and just admire him. "You are, and I love you so much. I don't kiss you enough."

Smiling, he says, "You could never kiss me enough." Kissing his cheek, I take his hand so we can explore.

The crowds of tourists make it difficult to negotiate the tiny streets and stairs leading to the upper level of the island. There are so many people, hanging around stalls, shops, and eateries that we're at a standstill. Edward becomes frustrated, finding a gap for us to break through so we can follow the sign to the palace entry. Luckily we don't have to wait long to get in. I think everyone might be eating.

"This was a good idea. It's much cooler in here." I have to kiss him when I'm helping him with his audio guide. I've used so many of these things, I'm an expert.

My fanciful notion that I had a connection to this island takes a hit when I find out they originally called the island Isola Inferiore, when it was nothing more than a rock for the locals to fish from. In the 1600's, the Borromeo family acquired it and started construction on a summer vacation home. One of them named it for his wife, Isabella.

This is wealth on a scale I can barely comprehend, rivaling the major palaces we saw in France, just smaller. I can't decide if covering every square inch of the walls with paintings is magnificent or gaudy, but I can appreciate that these people were powerful and influential. Maybe they needed to be showy when Napoleon would call in for bed and breakfast or when they held major war councils between the British, French, and Italians here.

The lower floor has rooms they call grottoes, where shells cover every surface. A statue of Venus reclines here, naked and peaceful. Strangely, a dozen elaborate saddles form a circular guard in a room where the miniature version of the palace is the main attraction.

We come outside for the next part of the guided tour, and Edward and I haven't spoken. I like that he walks around silently and listens to the commentary. He makes a good travelling companion.

The gardens are exceptional—symmetrical, and expertly tended. Bees hover around crimson hydrangeas, rhododendrons, oleander, and roses, still blooming late in the season. Potted boxwood plants line the walkways and steps, clipped into perfectly shaped balls. Two albino peacocks strut around a vivid green lawn.

The far end of the island is what makes Isola Bella so outstanding from afar—the Teatro Massimo—a four-story stone terrace, crowned by the symbol of the Borromeos, a rearing unicorn, ready to leap down with a child on its back. There are many children, like the lost boys of Neverland, raising fists in the air in celebration. Obelisks stand next to colossal statues that represent earth, fire, air, and water. Neptune holds up his trident. Giant shells and dolphins lie shaded in archways, cooled by the spray from fountains.

We climb the sweeping stairs, edged with the ubiquitous balls of boxwood, and the view is incredible. Here we can appreciate the detail of the maze-like flowerbeds. Stresa, in the background, is just one part of this feast for the eyes.

We take off our headphones, and Edward shakes his head.

"What did you think?" I ask.

"Now I know why Mom would never come here. How do you get to be this wealthy?" he asks, looking out across the water.

"I don't think I want to know," I answer with a sigh, feeling an even deeper connection to my husband. "But I'm glad we came. I feel like I've gotten something out of my system today."

Looking at me tenderly, he asks, "Are you okay? You were upset before."

"Yeah. When I didn't hear from you for months, and I was so near, I used to imagine arriving here, and you'd be waiting for the ferry."

"Baby," he says, taking my hand. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. The reality was so much better. I didn't kiss you in the dream."

 _ **Thanks for reading xo**_


	24. Chapter 24

_**Thanks. It's all I can say for the wonderful reviews from last chapter. Loved the speculation and the desire to travel! I will reply but I thought you'd prefer a chapter instead. We're nearly there.**_

 _ **The girls were slightly more intense this chapter and I think they improved it immensely. I'll never thank you enough - Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley. I just never will.**_

* * *

 **Chapter 24**

We find a seat in the shade where a light breeze comes off the lake. It's nice to take in the real beauty of the place.

Edward leans forward, elbows on his thighs. "I have to call Dad. What am I going to tell him? She's different." As he shakes his head, I rub his back, knowing he can't put this off any longer. "I can't remember ever seeing Alice laugh like today."

"I think…" I stop to make sure I say this right. "I think your Dad is meant to come here and see for himself."

With a laugh, he says, "Are you turning into Alice now?"

"No, but we're obviously here for the same reason. He needs to see her in this environment to understand the support they can give her. Joey's run-down hotel, Edward… That's an excuse to stay here with his daughter. Joey needs him. That family needs him, and as a UK citizen, he can work anywhere in the EU."

He turns his gaze on me. "You know what? I've thought that same thing myself."

"Then let's try to make it happen because I don't want to see him go home alone."

He leans back and rests his ankle on his knee, throwing his arm around my shoulders. "Yeah, let's do it, because neither do I."

Relaxed and optimistic when he calls his father's number, he's soon pacing and rubbing the back of his neck. As he explains what we've witnessed and how happy Alice appears, it's obvious Carlisle is throwing questions at him. Edward answers mostly with, "I don't know," and I realize we don't have critical details to share. All we can do is report on what we've seen and what they've given us, so this must be hard for Carlisle. I know I wouldn't like to be having this conversation with my son about my daughter, but as her father, he has to make the call.

"I don't know. It's in Verbania." With his hand firmly planted in his hair, I think Edward is starting to back down when he pulls the proverbial rabbit out of his hat. "Look Dad, Alice is already a known problem, and Bella can't afford a scene at an airport when she has to fly for her job. If they won't take Alice on the flight…" As Carlisle interrupts, Edward looks at me for support. "We could, but then we'll have heavy suitcases and an angry teenager to deal with. I don't even know if we can get a seat on a train." I have to stop my smirk from becoming a full-blown smile. Without discussing this, he's just shown me we think alike, and I love him even more for it.

When he hangs up, he stares at the phone before plopping down next to me. Looking out at the lake, he sighs. "He's not happy, but he agrees it's not my decision."

"But he said he would come, right?"

"Yes. He says they'll fly home from Milano next week."

I crawl into his lap. "Then you've done your job. Let him come and see for himself."

"I feel bad since he came all this way to help me, and I'm letting him down."

I kiss his nose and play with his hair. "You didn't see how much he loved working on the pub, and he will love this, too."

Nonna kisses Edward about twenty times when he tells her Carlisle is coming to Stresa. She's so delighted, she wants to take us to dinner but only if we promise not to tell anyone else in the family. Apparently, they don't eat out often, believing restaurant food isn't up to the standard of their own.

Edward pulls me into his side. "Bella makes the most delicious vegetable pasta sauce, Nonna. It's fantastic."

"Beauty _and_ skill?" I'm humbled in the presence of a woman who no doubt makes the perfect sauce to go with her homemade pasta, but she winks at me. "Good food is the main ingredient in a happy and healthy marriage."

That has definitely been true for my parents, but I wonder how much access I'll have to the kitchen at the pub.

We change for dinner and arrive back to find Nonna in another elegant black dress. Her leather handbag is so fabulous I want to ask where she got it. Alice wears a floral dress I imagine Nonna bought for her, and I'm impressed how much she's grown up since I made her buy a bra in London a couple of months ago. If Carlisle does let Alice stay, I can see Nonna spoiling her silly in Milan. Alice's new bracelet catches my eye. When she sees me staring, she responds, "Birthday present," and holds it up so I can admire the alternating beads in shiny silver and a swirly black, green, and white ceramic design. It's really pretty and has two charms: a crucifix and a medal.

The four of us take the ferry to Isola Superiore, known as the fishermen's island, and the restaurant is packed. The waiter leads us to the outside terrace, shaded by a canvas awning and vines, decked out in simple furniture and salmon-colored tablecloths. It's certainly not flashy, but it doesn't need to be with the view and the mouthwatering food I'm seeing. With a flourish of Italian, the waiter leaves the menus, and Nonna directs Alice to sit so Edward and I can face the lake.

She pours us each a glass of water. "I prayed for a summer when you all would return," she announces with a look of contentment. "It's wonderful to see you here, Edward, married and happy, and now Carlisle is coming." I had wondered if her relationship with her son-in-law was strained after the comment about him taking Esme to America, but she genuinely seems to be looking forward to his arrival.

"I think that's the first time you ever called me Edward, Nonna."

He smirks, and she laughs. "Perhaps, but you are a man now and no longer my coo-cho-loh."

"What does the name mean?" I ask, fascinated. When I smile at Edward, he rubs his hand over my shoulder.

"Cucciolo is puppy. I don't know many Italian words, but I know that one."

"Yes, I think he was four when I made the mistake of calling him Eduardo. 'That's not my name,' he barked at me, like a little puppy, trying out his loudest voice, and that's what I named him."

Alice and I grin at each other, loving this. She seems content to listen quietly tonight, and I can see she enjoys being here with her brother. The seafood antipasto she and I order is amazing, and she tries everything on her plate. I probably wouldn't have done the same thing at fourteen, so I admire her.

As the pasta arrives, Nonna wants to hear about our romance. I expect she knows little about Edward's time away from his family, and we keep the details generic. She loves the fact that we started our relationship by talking about Italy, but she doesn't understand our hesitation when she asks how we fell in love. I speak up because I've reflected on this for over a year.

"We were good friends, but I thought Edward was very different from me. It turns out he is similar."

"Opposites may attract, but they can turn marriage into a long battle."

She asks about my family and the circumstances that led to our courthouse marriage. When she examines my rings, she says, "Ah, stupendo. One carat?"

"Point nine," I reply, and she nods in approval. I think she and Mom would get along just fine.

We have plenty to tell her about my job, the visa, and the week we just spent in Seattle. Alice is enthralled, finally asking questions as she scrolls through our photos. We swap phones and see images of Alice having a wonderful vacation.

When they serve the fish course, the conversation turns to Carlisle's arrival. Before we went to Nonna's today, Edward and I agreed we wouldn't say anything about the possibility of him staying in Stresa. As Nonna continues to probe about the completion of the pub and Carlisle's future, I start to wonder what is actually happening here, if she and Alice are playing us, just like we think we're manipulating Carlisle.

An uncomfortable glance from Edward shows he may be thinking the same thing, but he doesn't hold back. "Alice, do you really think you're going to stay?"

"Yeah... I hope so."

"What do you see happening with Dad? You don't care about him going back to Chicago all on his own?"

"I… I do care. I love Dad."

After a few seconds of staring, he says, "Well, you just make sure you consider him in this."

Nonna interrupts. "Of course we will honor whatever Carlisle decides."

"Good. That's settled then, is it?"

The look he gives his grandmother is a direct challenge, his hostility tangible in the air.

"Yes, Edward… it is."

"Il conto," Edward calls to a passing waiter, then pays the check like he's a local. None of us speaks, and I don't touch him. I don't dare.

He and Nonna are deep in conversation on the ferry ride back, and Alice asks, "What are they talking about?"

I'm wondering myself. "They're just catching up. They haven't seen each other in a long time."

"I'll go with you tomorrow. I don't want anyone fighting." I put my arm around her, and she doesn't flinch. She actually leans on me. "It's not fair. I haven't felt this happy in a really long time."

My heart breaks for her. "Oh, you're not meant to leave with us tomorrow. Your dad will come here, and you'll work out what's best for both of you. Edward just wants everyone to be happy."

"I'm glad you're my sister."

I lean my head against hers. "Me too, Alice. Me too."

Looking up, I see Nonna wipe her eyes and watch Edward give her a hug.

"You want to talk about it?" I ask when we reach the hotel. It was a curt goodbye at Nonna's, and he hasn't said a word on the walk up here.

"Not really."

Although I would like to know, it's not my business unless he wants to share. I decide not to push him because he reminded tonight me how unpredictable he is. They're family, so I'm sure whatever happened between them will blow over, and Nonna will soon be kissing him again.

Joey's light is off, and the radio is quietly playing, so we go to bed. Edward has the first shower, and by the time I come out, he's lying on his back with an arm over his eyes.

"You awake?" I whisper, and he waggles his fingers. I turn off the bathroom light and get in with him. "You okay?" He opens his arm, and I cuddle up to him.

"I've been looking at the moon."

The moon is a tiny sliver in the sky, just past the new moon phase. "A waxing moon. Two weeks ago we were at the Shard."

"That seems like a long time ago." He runs his hand over my hair.

"I think travel affects your perception of time. It flies past, but when you look back, it seems to stretch out forever. Maybe it's hard to process all the new experiences."

"Two huge days, babe."

I hum contentedly, thinking back over the last week. I've overcome every barrier that stood between me and my dream, and tomorrow night we'll be in London for the real adventure to start.

"I'm just as bad as Nonna, you know. I go after what I want... like she does."

At least he wants to talk. "Alice said she will come back with us. She doesn't want people fighting."

"Oh God, did she?"

"Yeah, but I said she should wait for her dad."

"Jesus, I said a bunch of insensitive stuff to Nonna I shouldn't have." Sighing, he goes on. "I was angry, and I said I don't like her trying to manipulate me. I also said I don't want her saying anything about Dad being responsible for Mom's death again, and I told her to go easy on him because she can't imagine the hell he's been through.

"Christ, she gave it right back to me. 'Well, _Edward_ ,' she said, 'I don't see my son, and my daughter was taken from me in the prime of her life. I also lost my husband, and I never see my grandchildren, so maybe I _can_ imagine that hell. Alice is all I've got.' She started to cry, and I apologized. All I could do was say we'd try to visit."

"She can visit us, too. It's only a two-hour flight. Was there some reason she couldn't go to Chicago to see you?"

"They did come, a couple of years after Mom died, and she was ready to take Alice then, but Dad wouldn't allow it." After a while he says, "Fucking hell."

I snuggle into his neck, hoping to comfort him. Holding him tight, I whisper my love in his ear and feel his lips caress my forehead.

* * *

I make eggs for breakfast, and we spend an hour with Joey once we're packed. He seems brighter today, asking questions about Edward's pub.

"Carlisle called last night and asked if I have a spare bed. He wants to stay with me," he says with a smile. Edward and I look at each other, wondering if there really are unknown forces at work here. Joey takes our bags and wheels them up the hallway. "I'm moving these to the front door for the driver. He will bring them to Goia's."

It gives Edward time to poke the 200 Euro bill under a canister for Joey to find after we've gone. Their emotional goodbye makes me feel like I've missed out on something, failed to see the essence of the man who is so fond of my husband and his father.

We take a final stroll through the town because Edward wants to buy gifts for Nonna and Alice and for those back home who held the fort so he could have this time off. After getting cologne for the men, we come across a tiny store selling hand-crafted ceramics and an artist who captures Stresa in abstract form. All the elements are there, just not in a landscape juxtaposition: a swirl of blue depicts the lake and soft gray streaks suggest mountains; a skinny diagonal line is the cable car; dots of verdant green evoke opulent gardens; and tiny squares in muted terracotta represent roof tiles. I love the use of thick clear enamel, making me want to touch what it's protecting.

There are shallow bowls with four legs, made entirely from this same enamel, their underneath covered in see-through beads. I'm falling in love with them, but I can't linger today. We choose a serving plate each for Tanya and Ang, a planter for Nonna, and a necklace for Alice.

Edward can't seem to find the right gift for his father.

"Thank you!" Alice says, holding her hair up for Edward to do the clasp. "I have something for you, too." She looks at me but hands Edward a small gift-wrapped box, containing a silver frame with a photo of Carlisle, Alice, Edward and me, taken by Laurent the day the pub opened. "Nonna helped me have it inscribed." On the back, are the words, "The Masen Family at Masen's, Covent Garden, London, August 1st, 2015".

I'm tearing up when I look at Nonna, hugging her pot and smiling. She knows the importance of this gift—approval and welcome—from her and from Alice. I'm a Masen now with a big family who fight and miss each other and kiss twenty times and celebrate together. I even love the confusion over them carrying the same Christian name. When Alice hugs me, I know it doesn't come naturally to her yet, but the fact she tries makes me treasure it more.

Alice wants to see the video and the photos we took the day we got married. Nonna watches for a minute but goes to Edward as he stands, looking out the back screen door.

"I still haven't got anything for Dad. Where should we look at the airport?"

"Buy nothing at that airport," she warns. "What are you looking for?"

"I have no idea," Edward sighs.

"I can help you with clothing."

"Nonna has a shop," Alice pipes up.

Edward shakes his head as if he should have known this. "You have a shop?"

"I have a small boutique here."

Still amazed, he says, "Dad doesn't have a good jacket."

"Then come with me. It's not far."

The store, called "Goia," is as elegant as its owner. From the shell-shaped awning over the door to the spotless presentation, it's glamorous, with prices to match. Nonna introduces her sales assistant, Sasha, and tells us everything is from a previous season, chosen carefully for its timeless style. She doesn't waste her time on fashion trends because there is no market for it here. I could go crazy in a shop like this, and I'm trying not to look at the brown boots in the corner which are daring me to check out the price.

 _You don't need them. You have two boxes of winter stuff coming from Seattle._

While Edward goes through the jackets, I pretend to browse through dresses as the boots call to me.

 _A russet colored version of Nonna's handbag is now screaming for my attention!_

"You like the trench, Edward?" Nonna asks, checking the label.

Edward's eyes bug out when he sees the price tag.

"Don't look at the price. That's retail."

"I don't know how to compare our sizes."

"Try it on," she directs, taking it off its hanger. "Has he put on much weight?"

"Not really, maybe a little bit."

I stop with the fake browsing and stare at my husband, who is fidgeting and pulling at the charcoal jacket in front of a mirror. The jacket is him, not his father, and this mid-length style suits his height.

I just have to tell him. "You don't have a good jacket either, Edward. That looks great on you."

"This one for Carlisle?" Nonna asks, holding up a shorter camel-colored pea coat in suede.

"Oh, yeah, that's him."

"The dark color suits you better. Get both. If it doesn't fit him, he can return it."

He shudders out a breath as if she's scaring him. "Did you find anything, baby?"

"No, I'm fine, love."

"You trying on those boots?"

 _God, he's got eyes in the back of his head!_ "No, I really don't need them."

He sucks in a deep breath. "Okay, hit me with it. How much?"

Nonna puts a finger to her lips and says, "Well, I didn't buy you a wedding gift…"

"Nonna, please don't."

"And you paid for dinner last night, so... if we add this…" Lifting up the russet handbag, she smiles at me. "I think I'll be happy."

I put my hand over my mouth because… Oh. My. God. Shut. Up. She's. Serious.

She looks at her watch and smirks. "It's almost time for you to go to the airport, so I suggest we get these wrapped quickly."

Alice is grinning, unzipping a garment bag for Sasha, while Nonna pulls her grandson and me into a giant hug.

* * *

It feels like arriving home when we touch down at Heathrow.

Joining Edward in the British line, I reach the cubicle quickly. The woman takes my passport and enters the details into her computer. It's a nerve-racking minute before she looks at me, then finds the visa page, stamping it with authority before sliding it under the glass partition with a smile. "Next, please," she calls out, and I'm actually in—legal to work in a country that didn't want me at first. It's an amazing feeling.

It feels like coming home when we exit Paddington Station and find a line of black cabs waiting at the taxi rank.

Seeing Hyde Park, Marble Arch, the familiar streets of Mayfair and Soho, I know we're getting close.

" _We're home,"_ I text Mom.

But it's not until we walk into the pub and hear welcoming cheers that I know I _am_ home.

Tanya embraces me while the men shake hands. Then Carlisle and Emmett offer hugs and congratulations. Laurent holds his hand up and waves, busy serving drinks. The new barman, Eric, is working alongside him. I look around and see nothing has changed, except for the artwork on the walls. Liam and Jasper have orders to fill, so I settle for a quick hello. People are dancing in the beer garden.

I can't help imagining Joey's hotel in Stresa, brought to life like this, where clattering sounds and laughter replace the hollow emptiness that fills it now. It's not wall-to-wall people in here, but there are no vacant tables, so Carlisle suggests we take the suitcases upstairs. They're all eager to show us the newly built stairs and the loft.

"Another bathroom?" Edward asks when he sees the familiar work has begun.

Carlisle explains. "Just a shower and toilet. It adds value to the property, Son, and you can afford it."

"I'm not arguing, Dad. It's a good idea."

Even though Edward said the space up here was similar to what we have, it looks massive without furniture. Tanya has been busy creating a growing collection of canvases ready for sale.

"It's easier for me to paint here, Edward. I hope you don't mind."

"How is it going?" he asks, "Have you sold the ones gone from downstairs?"

"Yes. Maybe it's word of mouth, but the phone calls are increasing, and I'm getting better at making a sale before they leave to look at someone else's art. It seems like the higher the price, the easier it sells. People have no idea the profit I'm making on art."

"Great art," Emmett adds. "They're paying for artistic talent, not canvas and paint, and it's time you realized how good you are, Tan."

"Thank you," she says, melting into his hug. I notice a difference in Emmett immediately. He has real respect for Tanya, and I never saw him this way with Rose. Except for her outer beauty, there was nothing exceptional about her.

"We have gifts." Edward smiles as he leads us down to our floor, now complete with its new hallway and door. He hands over the boxes to a very surprised Emmett and Tanya, then goes back for the jacket. "This is for you, Dad," he offers solemnly, standing behind with his arms around me, waiting for his father to investigate what he's bought.

"Why is this so heavy, Edward?" Like any father, Carlisle wouldn't want his son spending too much on him, but he unzips the bag and gasps. "It's suede."

"You never told me Nonna had a boutique. She said you can change it if you want."

He tries it on, admiring himself in the tiny mirror on the wardrobe. "I won't be doing that. I love it!" Edward smiles proudly as Carlisle runs his hands over the suede. The color looks good against his sandy hair.

Emmett puts Edward in a headlock. "You didn't have to get me a gift." As the men leave us, I hear Emmett say, "I have to talk to you about the sponsorship."

Edward follows close to him. "Jesus, tell me you're not backing out, Em."

"No, but we need to discuss it."

When I look at Tanya, it's as if she didn't hear or she's ignoring them on purpose. "Well, are you going to show me the video?"

It's so good talking to someone who knows your past and whom you trust implicitly. To Tanya, I can admit about how badly I reacted to Edward's offer of marriage initially and tell her about the big confession night with Charlie. She thinks Edward gave up all he needed to because if there was more on file, Charlie would have brought it up. She says my father seems pretty cool, and I have to agree he gave Edward a chance because of the trust he has in my judgement. That's the part I think is cool.

Tanya has only heard Carlisle's side of the story regarding Alice, and she's angry, saying it sounds like the family is brainwashing her. I tell her only what we saw, omitting the part where Carlisle should stay. Edward and I have agreed to let it unfold the way it's supposed to, but we're confident he'll come to the same conclusion on his own.

I don't mention the visit from Rosalie because I can't think of a reason why I should.

When we go down to the bar, Edward is already eating, telling me he has to start work to let Eric go home. I am disappointed, but Eric has already done eight hours, and Ang isn't working tonight. When the rest of us order dinner, Edward goes to get changed.

Carlisle looks tired. He's been living here for the last week and cleaning at the end of the night. "Siobhan's been helping," he says when I thank him.

"She's a nice lady."

"Yes, she is, Bella. I'm not going back to the hotel. I'm staying with her until I leave England." Emmett glances at me over his beer, and I decide to avoid that statement because there's no way to confirm what he's saying without a whole lot of embarrassment.

"I'm going to miss you, Carlisle. You're such a good dad."

"Well, you only get one shot at this. Is Alice really happy?"

"I think so, but we only saw her for two days. You go and make up your own mind."

"She needs to live… I suppose."

"And so do you. You should think about your own happiness."

He half-heartedly snorts and finishes his beer. When Edward comes down, he says goodbye and leaves us all contemplating what he's going through. None of us talks for a while.

Emmett's the first to speak quietly. "Just keep it light with Carlisle, all right?"

"Sure, but is he okay?" I ask, feeling worried.

"He really likes Siobhan but having to visit his wife's family is making him question if he's ready."

Surely the family wouldn't give Carlisle a hard time after twelve years of mourning. I see him in Stresa and Siobhan in London, finding a way to be together, just like with Esme, only the locations are reversed. I don't forget the fact that Siobhan has run a restaurant before either. Mary would have a British friend of a similar age, too. I just wish I could make it unfold the way it's in my head.

When Tanya and Emmett leave, I go upstairs to my laptop. My first meeting at Vertigo Magazine is tomorrow, and Charlotte has already questioned why I haven't been updating. It's been days since I had a WiFi connection, and it's time I checked the blog. I find Klaus and Claymore and put them back where they belong—right next to me.

With eyes bulging, I note the number of comments on my last post, asking what Diver was doing in Seattle. There's so much speculation, it creates a life of its own, spawning long conversations that have nothing to do with travel.

" _It's something important. I know it."_

" _They're engaged!"_

" _I bet they got married!"_

" _Why would he go all that way otherwise?"_

" _He came to meet her parents. I love him. *swoon*"_

" _Does anyone have a picture of this guy?"_

" _I'm going to Masen's next week. I'll get one."_

I'm dying to share what really happened, but I upload the best shots from the last few days, and say he took me to meet his Italian family on the way back to London and leave it at that. Raving about the scenery, the food, and the hospitality we received, I'm smiling the whole time I type.

I decide to let Maggie and Charlotte advise me tomorrow on what I should post. With that in mind, I start to write, remembering what it felt like when he was waiting on the front porch, right through to tonight's welcome home.

His lips are on my neck, moving down to my shoulder where he takes a soft bite. "You getting ready for tomorrow, baby?"

Closing my eyes, I respond, "I'm sorry. I lost track of time. Are you...?" With a kiss, he silences me.

Pulling me up into his arms, he answers, "I'm finished, and we're finally on our own."

I kiss him back and hear him moan when I wrap a leg around him. He's already hard.

"You have something special in mind?" I ask, undoing the buttons of his shirt.

"Touch." He kisses me. "Taste." He kisses me again. "Tangle." Each word is delivered with sizzle, and then he lifts me.

"Turning me on with a literary device. How about thrust?" I grind against him, and he lowers me to the bed, lifting my shirt over my head.

"Tantalizing." He pulls down the bra cups and squeezes, taking as much as he can into his mouth.

Arching my back, I cry out, "Oh, God. Your teeth."

"Am I hurting you?"

"No, I love it."

With a smile, he sits me up, undoing the hooks on my bra easily, and lifting it off. "Tits," he purrs, rubbing his hands over me and squeezing my nipples while he watches. The look on his face is the sexiest thing I've ever seen. When his eyes meet mine again, they're different, darker. "Tease me. Show me you want me."

I don't know what he has in his head, so I proceed with slow kisses, taking my time to strip him, smiling as each piece of clothing comes off. When he's naked, I worship his body with my lips and tongue, kissing down his chest and up his thighs, bypassing his erection, kissing it just once on my way back up.

A deep rumble turns into a chuckle. I feel like saying that he asked for this, but I decide I like biting his stubbly neck better. He squeezes my ass hard and says, "I'm going to lose my shit in a minute."

"No, you're not. Settle down and be teased."

"Okay," he says, blowing out a big breath. I guess I have dragged this out longer than he may have anticipated, but I'm enjoying myself, and he gave me no instruction. Still in my jeans, I kiss him and grind against him while he moans, taking my breasts in his hands. The movement of his hips tells me he's struggling, so I stand and strip in front of him.

He's sitting up when I crawl over and try to push him down, but I lose my train of thought when he slides his fingers between my legs and watches my reaction. All this teasing has made me hyper-sensitive to his touch, and I cry out, throwing my head back.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he groans, flipping me on my back as he continues to drive me wild.

Holding onto his neck, I moan loudly into his kiss. Then I have to tell him I'm dangerously close and I want him to feel it. "Edward, I need you inside, please, now."

Without hesitation, he pushes in and moves, faster and faster, until I'm gripping him and calling out his name. When the explosion starts, it surprises me with its ferocity and how long it continues.

"Jesus, Bella," he groans, veins standing out from his neck. Then with one final kiss, his whole body stiffens and he lets go. Burying his face in my neck, he says, "Thank you."

When Edward suggests a bath, I can't think of anything I'd like better, so he fills the tub while I stay in bed, feeling very content. I'm starting to drift off when I hear him call my name. He's already in the tub, so I get in the opposite end. He takes my feet and places them on his chest, rubbing the soles with his thumbs.

"I'm sorry I wasn't down there much tonight. I lose time when I'm writing."

"That's okay. This is my job, not yours, and we were pretty busy."

"Is that strange for a Tuesday night?"

"I'm not sure yet, but we're doing better than expected."

"That's great if you can handle it. Why did Emmett mention the sponsorship?"

"We've been talking about this for a while. He wants to be a partner, not the manager."

I don't understand. "But it's your pub."

"I know. He's recommending the partnership rents the property from me. It guarantees me an income and sets things up in case I want to rent it to someone else in the future. It's actually the way they run most pubs."

"Wow, he's moving fast."

"This is Emmett's profession, babe, and he has ideas to develop this place that would never occur to me, so I can understand his resistance to having me as his boss. With his experience, he could walk into any hotel, and they'd fall all over themselves to have him. He wants the partnership in writing before he goes home to the States to apply for his visa."

"What do you think you'll do?"

"I have to make it worth his while if he's committing to a contract with me, and I know he'll work harder if there's something in it for him. He's the only person I trust to run the pub if I want to have time off. Without him, I'm on seven days a week."

"That's too much, Edward. You can't keep that up."

"I know, and that's why I think I'm gonna say yes."

 _ **Thanks for reading xo**_


	25. Chapter 25

_**Thank you so much for your reviews on the last chapter. Just incredible. You still have so many questions and I intend to answer them all. The next chapter is already done, except it needs a beta's eyes, so it shouldn't be long.**_

 _ **Three amazing women are still with me, encouraging and keeping me on track. I love how you girls have become part of the story. To Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley, thanks for everything. xxx**_

* * *

 **Chapter 25**

The waiting area of Vertigo Magazine brings back memories from my first weeks in London: Charlotte giving me an interview when she knew I was lying, coming in to explain myself after pestering the editor-in-chief with my emails, the day I found out I had to go back to the States. When Maggie comes out to beckon me in, they're just a collection of anecdotes, stripped of the emotion they once held.

"So tell us what happened," she asks as soon as I'm through the door of her office. Charlotte pours a cup of coffee and sets it down for me.

They may have read the blog, but I'm not sure what they're asking. "What happened?"

Maggie rolls her eyes and motions for me to sit down. "He followed you to America?"

I can't help the smile as I hold up my left hand, and they gasp when they see my rings. "Married." Charlotte sighs. "I told you."

"So he surprised you with the proposal?" Maggie holds my finger, examining the diamond.

"He was worried the visa wouldn't be approved and…"

"Do you have photos with you?" Her eyes are alive with anticipation.

"Yes, I do."

With grabby hands, she asks for the laptop. "Oh, he's handsome." She sighs, scrolling through the images. "You have to capitalize on this, Bella. You know they love a romantic story."

"I wasn't sure if I should make it public."

She returns her eyes to the screen. "Your readers are waiting for answers... Good heavens, he really is adorable." Charlotte is resting her jaw on her hand, startled when Maggie finally shuts the lid. "Okay, you have things to consider. We want a piece to introduce yourself to Zipline's readers, and I'm asking you to include the wedding. Talk to your man so you're comfortable, but do it quickly. You will lose momentum if they think you're not going to deliver. In the meantime, fire up the blog as you've been doing. You've started a game here, Bella, so play it. You can use the highlights for next week's column. I presume you know where you want to lead them."

"I want to review London. I'm ready to discover the city."

"All right," Maggie responds. "That's a fitting place to start."

"I also want to write my story to warn people who think they can just arrive here and find a job."

Maggie nods as if she was expecting this.

Charlotte interrupts. "What about a serialization of the Seattle story—a teaser each day to keep the comments coming?" Maggie looks over her glasses, waiting. "And the final blog a link into the debut column with the full story with photos."

Maggie lips curl up at her assistant editor. "I do like that connection, Charlotte."

I like it, too. These women are getting me excited. "I want to write under the name Bella Masen, if that's okay."

"That's fine, but you don't need to use your real name. Just don't go changing it legally without informing us first. You're going to Paris in a few weeks for "Twenty Hotels Under Thirty Euros," but we'll talk about that once you settle in."

 _Oh, Paris. I would come back to you anytime._

"What are your questions, Bella?"

It's hard to get past the thrill of traveling to Paris for work, but I need to clarify what I'm doing. "Do I have restrictions? What about libel?"

"People can say whatever they like in your blog, and it won't always be pretty. If you want to publish a controversy or genuine grievance in the magazine, you'll need something we can verify, so a relationship with the reader is essential."

"I understand."

"Anything else?"

"Um... when do I get paid?"

Charlotte chuckles, and Maggie glances her way before answering. "Last day of the month."

I'm going to like working with these two women. They're straightforward, and they don't waste time. After a few introductions and a review of the building and its fire escapes, I leave, feeling confident and ready to go.

Edward opens the front door before I can get the key in the lock. "Oh, good. Can you let Eric in when he arrives? Everything's done."

He's already halfway out the door. "Sure. Where are you off to?"

"Doctor's appointment. I couldn't get in before I left, and now I'm overdue for blood tests. They said they'll fit me in if I go now."

"For the calcium deficiency?"

"Yeah, and I have to repeat the physical." My face must betray my unease because he runs his hand down my hair and kisses me. "There's nothing to worry about."

"Why do you have to repeat the physical?"

"It's part of the insurance cover."

"For diving?"

"Yes. Can we please talk about this later? I have to go."

After another kiss, he leaves me standing there, watching him rush down the street. When I close the door and look around the empty pub, I'm drained of enthusiasm, hearing only the dull hum from a dishwasher. Last night, this felt like the essence of home, but now all I see is Edward gone for another month. It's time we had this out properly. As his wife, I have a right to resist his decision to put himself in danger. If he thinks he has a valid reason for returning to Scotland, then he's going to have to work hard to convince me.

The sun streams in through the front windows, creating an inviting place to write, but I don't work on my romantic story. I look at the street and try to organize ideas for the blog.

Just before eleven, Eric knocks on the door, surprised when I open it. "Good morning."

"Edward's gone to the doctor."

"Oh?" He looks slightly taken aback.

"It's just a check-up. I'm sorry we weren't introduced last night. I'm Bella."

Holding his hand out, he smiles. "Eric."

He stashes his small backpack under the bar and punches a code into the till. Turning the televisions on, he checks that he has everything he needs. As he opens the dishwasher, Liam walks in, followed closely by Jasper, who's carrying a big box of vegetables and herbs.

"Hey, Bella, how's Alice?" Jasper asks.

"You'd hardly recognize her. She already looks and speaks like an Italian."

"Nice. Is she coming back soon?"

I'm shaking my head when Liam tells him to get to work, so I turn my attention to Eric who is polishing glasses before putting them away. He buffs the bar top to a shine as if Edward had trained him.

"Where do you come from, Eric?" I've learned to ask the question early in a city with a myriad of accents because I often guess wrong.

"Tasmania."

That gives me no clue. When I wait, he looks up from his gleaming surfaces and smiles.

"It's an island off the south coast of Australia."

"Oh... is it part of Australia?"

"That depends on who you ask. Officially, it's a state, but we're very protective of our separation from the mainland. We like our beaches unspoiled with no one on 'em."

"So, is it a beachy place?"

"Hmm, kind of. A big chunk of the island is World Heritage rainforest, so people go there to hike and camp, but lately it's turning into a foodie destination for tourists. The cheeses, Bella, the apples, the Tassie bubbly! Sullivans Cove won last year's World Whiskies Award for single malt, and that was a big deal when they knocked the Scots and the Japanese off the podium."

I love the way he's so proud of where he comes from. "What else?"

"Uh… It's full of history. The jail from the 1800's British penal colony still stands. Well, the stone walls anyway. It's sad that Port Arthur is known for the massacre as much as its convict heritage."

"Massacre?"

"Yeah, a guy with a screw loose decided to go there and kill tourists. He shot nearly 60 people at close range, and over half of them died, mothers and little kids and… "

"We have these shootings in America all the time." It doesn't surprise me I'm desensitized to this kind of tragedy. That, in itself, is a terrible tragedy.

"After what happened at Port Arthur, the government outlawed automatic weapons and bought back the guns through a nationwide amnesty, so we don't have the problem anymore." I can't get my head around the magnitude of such an operation when I barely understand the politics that defeat gun control in my country. "Hey, I'm sorry if I said the wrong thing. People still _do_ own guns in Australia. If you're pro guns, it has nothin' to do with me."

"We're not pro guns." I don't know him well enough to tell him why. A memory comes flooding back from my childhood—Dad showing me his gun and calling it a bomb—you touch it the wrong way, and it explodes. He was vigilant about locking it up as soon as he came home, but the image of it blowing up always stayed with me.

Eric moves away, greeting a group of men at the bar with a smile. They're a mixture of ages, all in suits.

"Four half pints a' bitter, thanks. Lunch on?"

"Certainly is." He hands them their menus and pours the beers without spilling a drop.

"Any recommendations?"

"Have you been here before?" Eric asks.

"No... first time." The younger of the group looks me up and down and smirks.

"Then I highly recommend the sliders."

They order quickly, giving me a chance to find out more. "So what are you doing in England?"

"I'm working for two years, and then I'll keep traveling. I'm not ready to go home yet."

"What did you do back home?"

"Bar work, hospitality management at uni, which I _still_ haven't finished. I took a job over the summer at a resort and never went back. Emmett told me you and Edward worked with him at a similar place."

"Yeah, that's where we all met… and I worked last winter at a ski resort in Switzerland."

Eric asks about Davos, and I find him open and easy to talk to. He describes how he fell in love with his island on the Great Barrier Reef. From the way he speaks, the life of resort workers was the same there. Then something changes—a memory takes the sparkle from his eyes.

"Excuse me." He serves another couple, and more people are standing inside the entry, commenting on our tightrope artist. I take my spot by the window and glance over at Eric, wondering what made him sad.

 _Why didn't he go back to finish his degree? Did he have a girlfriend on the island who had to leave?_

Now I'm thinking about Edward again. I just know he's going to breeze in here with a glowing health report, and I'm dreading the fight that's coming.

Sighing, I write some half-baked questions, scrap them, and write others. Someone laughs, and I lose my train of thought. Checking the blog, there's a deluge of speculation about Seattle, and all I can do is sigh. I hate that this is overwhelming me. My fingers should be itching to type, but I feel lonely, sitting here on my own with my laptop.

Then something red invades my field of vision—a single rose, sliding along the table toward me. As I look up, Edward leans down and says, "Just so you know, I've decided not to dive anymore." He cups my cheek and kisses me, smiling as he joins Eric behind the bar.

The fragrant flower, his choice of words, and his mannerisms are pretty clear. He loves me, and he's made the decision for us. I'm so happy, I blow him a kiss as I go upstairs, feeling re-energized.

The first thing I do is get us organized. I open the suitcases and start a load of clothes, packing my clean summer clothes into the wardrobe. My cool weather stuff will have to live in the suitcases for now.

The bathroom takes me ten minutes to clean. The floor another five.

I start a list of things we need: second wardrobe, big thick rug, television.

Sitting on the bed with my laptop, it feels like the blog's no longer controlling me. I have things I want to say and things I need to learn. Instead of dealing with the host of questions that are basically the same, I post a new comment. "If you want me to tell you about Seattle, then you have to give me London first. I'm ready to see this city, so where should I go?"

Closing the lid, I plug in the power and place the laptop on the floor.

New items for the list: bedside tables, desk, and chair.

My phone pings with an incoming text. _"Eric's eating later. Do you want me to order you lunch now?"_

Hmm, I want to send the right message. "Bring food if you want, but I'm ready for you anytime you want to come."

The smiley face he sends back makes me grin. I'm going to surprise my husband, a fitting reward for making me this happy.

By the time I hear him on the stairs, I'm ready and waiting, wearing an outfit I had planned to reveal in Seattle on our wedding night, but Edward never gave me a chance to change. He opens the door and locks it behind him as his eyes rake over my body, clad only in lavender lace and black silk. The plate of sandwiches is abandoned on the bed when he sees I'm wearing heels.

"The doctor had good news?" I ask, running my hands over his shoulders and down his arms.

"Very good," he answers, playing with the strap of my bra.

"But you're not going back." As I feel his chest, his fingers slide over my hips and grip my ass. Now I know why I kept these platform shoes.

"My priorities changed. I have a wife now who I'm crazy about."

He heats me up as his smoldering eyes roam over me. "Is this the outfit you wear when you write? It's positively scandalous."

"No, this is me wanting to have sex…" I slide my palm over his erection. "With you."

Moving my hair back, he kisses my neck. "I was really hoping that's what you meant."

"Edward, give me your clothes, so I don't mess you up." With an eyebrow raised, I undo his belt.

He just smiles. His pants hit the floor, and he helps me with the buttons of his shirt.

As I'm hanging his clothes up, he stands behind me and squeezes my breasts. He pushes himself onto my ass and slips a hand down the front of my underwear. When I rock back against him, he sucks just below my ear, sending a shot of electricity through me.

He slides my undies down and gently eases them over my shoes. Then he runs his hands up my legs and bites my ass, making me cry out. "Quiet," he purrs in my ear, returning his fingers to the place I need them. "Fuck, you are just the right height." He enters me from behind, thrusting smoothly with a momentum I love. Our breathing becomes heavy and synchronized—our movements like a dance. As my insides tighten, he groans, and his mouth works its way up my neck. My legs start to shake, and his lips overwhelm mine. When he sucks on my tongue, I explode.

Then he's moaning, kissing me roughly and panting into my hair, swearing as he thrusts faster and harder. I think he's losing control when he suddenly stills and holds me tight, rocking us together as he comes.

"That was..." he whispers at my temple, then shudders. "...intense. Fuck." When he finally lets me go, his face is one big satisfied smile.

We eat our sandwiches and talk about the decision to give up diving. I relate Maggie's request that I write about us getting married, and he says he trusts me, but I promise to show him first. As he leaves, looking immaculate, I wonder if anyone would suspect what we do up here. I love being the only one who knows how hot my husband is when I get him alone.

It's a very productive afternoon for me, approaching my first column without fear. I start by saying I feel honored and lucky to be joining a magazine that reports on what's happening right now, establishing Zipline's aim to publish the current travel experience with all the highs and lows occurring along the road.

Briefly, I describe my educational background and the six months I've just spent in Europe. I hint that I'll be reporting from Paris in coming weeks and write that I will soon be enticing travelers to head north from Milan to the unknown jewel called Stresa where I've just come from. This leads into Seattle, and I already know how I want to start.

"This week, my editor is asking for a report on my recent trip to Seattle. I won't discuss how I came to be there. That remains part of the bigger story of how I got my working visa, a topic I'll cover in a future column. Seattle is my hometown, the place I had to leave to pursue a dream of travel and a job as a journalist overseas. When I had to return so soon, almost defeated, I never imagined a determined man was coming to sweep me off my feet."

This is where I bring in what I wrote last night, but I rework each section toward a suspenseful ending, so until the very end it's not clear how things resolve. Obviously, everything worked out, but I want to highlight Edward's strong belief that he was bringing me back with him because it was so important during that week.

Hours later, I'm happy enough to stop and check the blog, and the number of comments is shocking. I read through and like them all, but it will take me all night to respond to every one. There is so much detail, like a travel guide to London, but a definite theme runs through the comments—the expectation of something in return.

I'm not ready to start without Edward's approval, so I close my computer, exhausted but exhilarated.

Edward takes a break so we can have dinner with Carlisle and Siobhan. Carlisle is not himself, having worked himself up into someone who's angry and defensive.

"They are not going to dictate what happens with my daughter. I am making all decisions regarding Alice, and I'm taking Siobhan with me for a vacation, so you'll have to find yourself another chef."

If he thought his first battle would be with us, he's very wrong because we both agree it's a good idea. Siobhan has worked on Liam's day off since the pub opened, so it _is_ short notice, but we never thought she would stay on permanently. Her assistant is more than capable of showing someone new the ropes.

"We're going to Milan tomorrow, and we'll be in Stresa by the weekend."

I have mixed feelings when we have to say goodbye. Carlisle is emotional, and I know we're both going to miss him. He thinks he's going back to the States without Siobhan, but the fact he's bravely taking her to Italy convinces me he is meant to journey down a different path and start a new life. It doesn't feel like goodbye, more like we'll see him soon.

When Edward finishes for the night, I have the column ready for him to approve. He reads it quite slowly and plays with his lips, then he hands me the laptop with a slight nod.

"I know I'm uneducated, and I'll never have your way with words, but I'm going to try to write this from my side, so you'll know how it felt for me. I want to get one thing straight, Bella. You're not lucky to have me. I'm the one who's lucky to have you."

I wrap my arms around his neck, my eyes filling with tears. "But I do feel lucky. I love you."

The next morning, he's on the laptop, applying for the family visa. He hands me his card and asks if I'll get some copies of our documents while I'm out buying my desk and chair. I smile and kiss him, realizing he's seen my list.

* * *

The blog bursts to life each time I deliver a new snippet of the Seattle story. The readers give me so much material in return that Maggie agrees two columns on London is the only way to cover it all. Even then, there are disappointments and heartbreaking tales I have to research before she will include them. She asks me to plan a future column dedicated to fraud and misinformation on the internet.

One of the stories gets to me, and I have to read it to Tanya while she paints upstairs.

"Listen to this, Tanya. This is the kind of shit that happens to people on the internet.

 _We were scammed in London and Paris. We booked and paid in full for our accommodations nine months before, through hotelcollect dot com, thinking we were getting an amazing deal. I confirmed the following day that the London hotel had our booking and asked them, only a week before we arrived, if they could store our luggage. We were coming in on an early flight._

 _When we turned up, they produced a fax sent while we were in the air, cancelling the booking. I contacted the company listed who said they were passing on the cancellation from another company, who never answered their phones or returned emails, so we couldn't find out who had our money._

 _We made the Paris booking on the same website, so we emailed, assuring them we would not be cancelling. They responded by saying they never received our booking. Losing over a thousand dollars at the beginning of our vacation was demoralizing, and the rooms weren't as cheap when we had to pay this time._

 _Our travel insurance told us to contact the vendor for a refund, but there was no hotelcollect online any more, only complaints from others who had the same thing happen to them. It consumed our first days in London, and we were miserable when we should have been out sightseeing. I could go on about how it felt, but I had the best travelling buddy who convinced me to let it go, saying we would make it up over the next six weeks. We went without sometimes, didn't do things on our list, but we managed to keep traveling._

 _When we came home, they declined our insurance claim because the "travel agent" failed to provide the services we paid for._

 _I wanted to share here. Do not under any circumstances book with hotelcollect dot com. They are scum."_

"Assholes." Tanya shakes her head, looking just as angry as I feel.

"Yeah, assholes. I'm following this one up for the magazine."

* * *

Mom calls the day my debut column posts. _"I'm proud of you, Bella. You write lovely words that make me cry."_

"Oh, Mom, I'm happy. I hope it came through."

" _It did. You love him, don't you?"_

"More every day." She's making me want to cry.

" _You know your father's over the moon about him giving up diving?"_

"He doesn't need to go back. Actually, Emmett's going to be a partner in the business."

" _Oh... well, I guess that's good… is it?"_

"It's the responsibility, Mom. Edward's working every day until Emmett returns. He's going home to New York for his visa soon and taking Tanya with him. They'll probably be gone for a few weeks."

" _And what about Alice and Carlisle? Are they returning to the States?"_

"We don't know. It's been a week, and we still haven't heard. He sent a text to say they had arrived in Stresa, and that's it. I guess they'll work it out, and we'll support whatever they decide to do."

" _You know I love you, and it's not just because you're my daughter. You've matured into a wonderful woman, and I know that's why good things are happening for you."_

"Thank you, Mom."

We have to end the call because we're both blubbering too much to continue.

The next morning I turn to Edward in bed. "Do you think we should call your dad?"

He considers my question. "I don't want to push him, love."

"Well, let's call Alice, just to see how she is? She might spill the beans."

"Okay." He takes his phone and rolls over onto his elbows. "I'll put her on speaker."

We almost give up when she finally answers. _"Hi."_

"How's it going?"

" _Good."_

"Are you still having a good time?"

" _Yes."_

"Are you going back to Chicago?"

" _No."_

Edward looks at me and raises his eyebrows, "What's Dad doing?"

" _You ask him."_

Alice has never been much of a phone conversationalist, but I can see Edward becoming irritated. He snorts and asks, "Why hasn't he called me, Alice?"

" _Talk to him."_

There's a rustling noise as she hands over the phone. _"Edward."_

"What's going on, Dad?"

" _Just a minute."_ The sound of a door closing dampens the background noise. _"I wanted to call you but... I'm wrestling with some demons."_

Edward frowns and asks, "What demons, Dad?"

" _This place… I love it here, Son. I always did. It's where I courted your mother and spent happy vacations together. Everywhere I look, I see her."_ Edward closes his eyes. I don't think either of us considered how hard it would be for Carlisle to return with the memories it would evoke; we were so focused on Alice and Joey.

"Dad."

" _I've made a mess of things, isolating the two of you from your family. I've cut myself off from Goia and especially Joey and Mary. We were once so close, and now look what's happened to them? I could have helped had I known. Why didn't you tell me about the state of his hotel?"_

"We thought you would see it yourself."

" _I could make a difference here."_

We look at each other and smile. "What's stopping you from staying there?"

" _The house in Chicago, Edward. You gave up your future to stop me from selling your home."_

Edward looks perplexed. "I… I thought you were selling it to pay for Alice's treatment. I only saw you with nowhere to live."

" _If that's true, I'm struggling to find a reason to go back and live in the States."_

"Dad, you've gotta do what makes _you_ happy. God knows you've given everything for your kids."

" _I should have taken their offer of support years ago. Anyway, Alice is definitely staying. She's thriving here."_ With a deep sigh, he says, _"I will talk to Joey and Siobhan. You never know."_

Carlisle ends the call, and Edward looks at me. "He seems depressed doesn't he?"

"Let him work through his demons. It's a lot to process with your Mom on his mind. Apart from the fact that he loves it there, you know he won't leave Alice."

He nods, then leans over and kisses my forehead.

"I think it's Mom who's telling him to stay."

 _ **Thanks for reading xo**_


	26. Chapter 26

**_To those of you still on the journey with me, thanks for continuing, and for the wonderful reviews. I know I've tested your patience with the gap between uploads. Sorry. We're nearly at the end, even though there are still a couple of obstacles on the road._**

 ** _My incredible team (Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley) have all been to hell and back lately, so I thank you sincerely for the time you've given me. Your guidance has been invaluable and I love you very much xxx_**

* * *

 **Chapter 26**

Carlisle delivers his decision on the eve of his return to Chicago. He will get his house ready for sale, place it in the hands of an agent, and return to renovate Joey's hotel. Alice is agreeing to his stipulations: she attends school in Verbania then college in England. He will make his home in London eventually. She won't take her first communion until he comes back.

The same week, the documents are finalized for the sponsorship, and I look through the applications they received for the job. The advertisement was tailored to Emmett's qualifications and experience, but there were a few applicants, including Eric, who stood out as suitable. In the notes, Carlisle wrote that he liked Eric, but he was concerned about his failure to complete his hotel management course. It doesn't mean anything—just a reason to put a cross against his name. Eric is a professional and great with the clientele.

"Do you know why Eric didn't go back to college?" I ask Emmett, when I remember the shadow that crossed Eric's eyes the first day we spoke.

"He didn't tell you what happened?"

Now I wish I hadn't asked because he makes it sounds ominous. "No."

"The island he worked on was flattened by a tropical cyclone. He wrote out his will that day, certain he was going to die as the wind ripped the place apart. Then they made the staff wait for all the guests to be evacuated first. Nearly everyone lost their job immediately and had to leave with just the clothes on their back. It changed him, Bella. He freely admits his goals are not as long-term as they were."

The story reminds me this time last year, it was me suffering from the grief of losing Edward. I never want to feel pain like that again.

* * *

I think I'm letting my birthday slide by unnoticed, but Edward's up early that morning, trying but failing to quietly extract something from the wardrobe. Then he sneaks into bed, all six feet two of him, expecting me not to notice how cold he is.

Apparently, I make sounds like little squeaks when I sleep, so that's what I do, and let my hand find its happy place on his penis. It wouldn't be the first time I've groped him in my sleep.

"Oh, God," he murmurs, getting harder by the second. Without knowing how I touch him unconsciously, I squeeze very gently and move my hand up and down while softly humming to myself. As his breathing gets heavy, I make a satisfied sound and shift my hand to his chest, still pretending to be asleep. "Bella?" he asks, just above a whisper, then his whole body shakes. He's laughing! His arms snake around me, and he rolls me on my back.

"Morning." I greet him innocently.

"You… little… tease."

"What?"

"You never stop. I always have to stop you. You were awake the whole time."

With a giggle, I answer, "Guilty."

He kisses me, still laughing. "Happy birthday, baby."

"Thank you," I reply, kissing his jaw and molding my body to his.

"I'm taking you to breakfast."

Disappointment washes over me. I don't want to go out; I want him. "Can't we stay here?"

"Well…" He's wavering over his answer as I continue to kiss his neck. "No. I've asked Eric to come in for the deliveries, and I want to take you out. It's your birthday." He rubs his nose against mine and kisses me with finality. It looks like we're going to breakfast.

We don't usually get up so early, so it's a shock dressing in the chilled morning air. We've had the comforter on the bed for a couple of weeks, and I love snuggling, but the days are still warm. This morning, however, I'm pulling on tights and a woolen skirt, searching for a sweater in one of the drawers.

Edward is ready and sitting on the bed when he says, "We're married, and I've never seen you in winter clothes before. Here, my love, you better open this." Grinning, he hands me a large wrapped box, and I look at him warily. Inside are the boots I was drooling over in Nonna's boutique in the same color as the handbag! I'm so happy, I pin him down and kiss the hell out of him.

He takes me to Richoux in Piccadilly for breakfast, linking my arm with his as we walk from the station, him in his trench coat and me in my new boots and matching bag. The restaurant is full of old world chic, potted palms, and chandeliers. Best of all, the food is incredible, and we don't have to rush. We're back in plenty of time to open the pub.

Mom calls to tell me there's money in my account, asking me to get myself something nice. An email arrives from Maggie with the subject, "Happy Birthday." It contains a link to an article in the magazine. Someone they don't name has been to the pub and reviewed it for Vertigo.

" _Eye Candy in Covent Garden"_ is the title of the review. _"We have a new gastropub in Covent Garden, and this one is worth a visit. Aside from three handsome bartenders who made my heart flutter enough to stumble over my order, Masen's interior has been hand-crafted beautifully by Edward Masen's father, a master builder whose own father was the licensee fifty years ago. Bringing the building back to life has been a labor of love, and it shows in every fine detail._

" _Masen's has its own unique character, a sun-filled space where the scent of fresh wood mixes deliciously with a hint of expensive cologne._

" _Did I mention the art? This is also a gallery for one of our newest talents, Miss Tanya Denali, whose paintings are on display and for sale. You had better be quick because her work is attracting a lot of attention._

" _Have I talked about the music? It's fresh and lively, without being overpowering. Someone with good taste is choosing their playlist because we found ourselves bopping at the table while we ate._

" _I forgot the food, didn't I? For no other reason, you should come here to eat. It might seem like standard fare, but the two chefs are fusing a world of flavors into some of Britain's staples. There's an uncertain suggestion of Asian and Middle Eastern influences. All I know is I was instantly starving as soon as I took a bite of my food, and I will return for more._

" _So how does one sum up? Masen's is a block back from Covent Garden Station. It's friendly, well-stocked, comfortable, fun, and easy on the eye. Add in the scrumptious food, and I'd say you've got a recipe for success."_

"Babe?" Edward looks worried when my hand is shaking as I hand the phone to him. The review couldn't be better, and I feel emotional that Maggie has done this for us and for Tanya. Posting it in the magazine today shows how thoughtful she is.

Edward is silent as he scrolls back up to read through again. Then he looks at me and says, "I have to thank her, Bella." What follows is a ten-minute call where Edward hardly says anything. He's just nodding and smiling, as if he's enjoying her compliments, and I wonder if she was the one who came in. I'll never ask because I'm too grateful.

I send the link to Tanya who responds by saying she is already on the train. When she arrives, we jump up and down out front, acting like idiots until it's out of our system, then trying to look casual as we go inside. She gives me a framed sketch of me and Edward, drawn from a photo taken the day we were married, and once again I'm amazed at her skill. Then we spend the afternoon talking about the review while she builds two frames and re-stretches the canvases she gave me on the island. I really missed my seahorses and fish, and the whole room changes with the color they bring. By the time we go down for drinks, I'm feeling pretty special with three Denali creations decorating my walls.

They give Jasper the task of carrying a cake with twenty-three lit candles to my table, and everyone sings "Happy Birthday." Later that night, my husband is playful and funny, then a little wild in bed.

It has to be one of the best birthdays I've ever had.

* * *

Emmett and Tanya fly out for New York, leaving a gaping hole in our lives. Even though Angela is working Saturday and Sunday until Emmett returns, Ben occasionally brings her in for a drink on her way home from college. Once a week, I go to their place to cook, and I feel lucky to have them. They stop me from working all the time.

While it would appear I'm just writing a column once a week for a magazine, the amount of research required is staggering. I have to find new ideas, respond to the current comments, and write the actual column, so getting away from the pub and doing some exercise frees my mind. I leave with a rough plan, hoping I'll come across something completely unexpected.

"You going out?" Edward asks, running his hand over my behind as I stand at the end of the bar.

"Yeah, I'm going to check out a couple of reviews... and yes, I will text you."

After a smile, he kisses me a little too amorously for a crowded pub in the middle of lunch service, but that's the man I married. He's possessive and worries about me traveling around the city on my own. If someone comes in and asks to meet me, it's Edward who introduces us, Edward who kisses me before he'll leave me with them, and Edward who keeps an eye trained on us while we talk.

I understand because he is and will remain my highest priority. He is my home, my safe place, my love. No one could deny he's attractive. I don't miss the looks women give him or their flirtations when they've had a few drinks, but he wears his wedding ring proudly, and he's hungry for me every night. Sometimes his vigor astounds me when his days seem so repetitive, but he's happy running his pub, and that's what matters.

* * *

Maggie outlines her expectations for the Paris trip. She sends me a long list of Paris hotels and challenges me to find twenty unknowns I can recommend. I have to personally visit them or stay overnight during the seven days I'll be there.

Paris is so big, I target three areas on the edge of the city and send a hundred and fifty emails to hotels, asking specific questions. From their reply I decipher their interest in my business by how enthusiastically they respond, their willingness to reply in English and send photos. They have to convince me of the quality of the beds, the likelihood of a quiet night's sleep, and the ease of reaching the Arc de Triomphe. It's not the geographical center of Paris, but Rose and I found it was a hub for buses and trains, so I'm going with what I know.

Fifty hotels return my email quickly, and I have the luxury of weeding out those who don't meet the criteria. Some interest me enough to go back and ask for what they missed. Maggie is pleased with my short list and tells me to get going as soon as I'm ready.

Then Emmett calls to announce they are returning with his approved visa. They're not going to live with us because Siobhan has invited the three of them to look after her place in London for now. She is going back to Stresa as soon as Carlisle returns! I'm so happy I almost miss the opportunity staring me in the face. Edward can come with me! When Emmett agrees, my business trip suddenly turns into a week with my husband in Paris!

 _This week's first question for the blog: What's the most romantic thing you've done in Paris?_

I'm trying to stay focused and make our bookings, but I'm dancing around with a grin on my face. We need our seats on the Eurostar first. While it's more expensive than flying, it is so much easier, and he'll love the trip.

Emmett and Edward have only one day working together before we leave. Tanya and I spend most of it catching up on their trip and her success in New York. She finally secured a gallery willing to sell her work on commission. When I ask about Emmett's family, she admits they were pleasant until an argument erupted about Emmett's profession. His father is a professor at Yale, and his parents can't comprehend their son's choice of career. Tanya says she and Emmett only stayed a few days before moving to a hotel in Manhattan. After that, they had a great time being tourists and catching up with friends she made when she lived there last year.

That evening, it's like the two men always belonged behind this bar together. With Laurent working, they have time to huddle and talk or dance around and laugh like the old days on the island. We have drinks when they finish.

Early next morning, we lock up the pub and head to St. Pancras for our train to Paris. We don't have to worry about a thing because Emmett McCarty is in charge.

* * *

One of the things I love about my job is encouraging others to see what I've seen and keep traveling the world. Now I know how different it is to travel with someone I love. I adored Paris last time, but now I sense it in a whiff of perfume, an expensive cigar, the smell of strong coffee and just-baked bread. It's here in a bohemian cafe next to the bric-à-brac shop where a dog sits panting outside. It's there on the bridges over the Seine where couples unapologetically make out. Paris is Edward's eyes as he sees it for the first time.

A man and a woman can feel the city's sensuality and communicate it through touch. An arm surrounding me is his happiness and contentment. The way he takes my hand is his love or his need to protect. It doesn't matter what his kisses mean—I just want them.

Things I've learned on this trip:

Waiting in line isn't boring when your man has his hand in the back pocket of your jeans. Wandering aimlessly is not a waste of time. Getting lost leads to discovery, not panic. Sharing mouthfuls of food suggestively does improve flavor, and a bottle of French champagne is meant to be finished. Tours and boat rides are more enjoyable by night. The back seat of a taxi is a world of its own and worth the expense. The quality of a hotel bed is irrelevant when you're screwing your man's brains out.

Finally, another person's opinion is invaluable when deciding to reject or keep. We finalize the list of twenty hotels on the train home and spend our last hour cuddling and reminiscing.

"Oh, my God, you are glowing!" Tanya calls out as she extends her arms to me. "You, too!" She hugs Edward before he heads to the bar. "Come upstairs with me? I hope you're not going to be angry."

"What have you done?" I chuckle and follow her. How could I ever be angry with Tanya when her motivation comes from the heart? When I see what they _have_ done, my hand automatically goes to my mouth.

"I saw your list, and I have to put my furniture into storage. Please, if you want to buy your own stuff it's fine, but keep this for as long as you want."

We now have a matching wardrobe, bedside tables, and a headboard. In the other half of the room, a couch faces a low storage unit and a television! There are two bookcases on the far wall between the windows.

"I don't know what to say."

"Siobhan's got everything we could ever need, so don't say a thing. Want to see our changes?"

She has positioned armchairs around the walls of their loft and a double bed sits in the middle of the room. At least I think it's a bed with a fitted cover that extends to the floor. Tanya's art is everywhere, showing how busy she's been. There's a new Covent Garden painting with a crowd captivated by a man perched high on a unicycle, juggling pins into the sky. It doesn't have the edge of fear like Edward's, but it's just as wonderful.

"I know, I caved. They offered me four thousand to paint it, but I'm keeping it for now. This area is perfect for a small showing. Maybe I'll serve some nice wine." She opens a door in the far corner and turns on the light, showing their finished bathroom. "We wanted the option to stay over sometimes, so we've been working out how for the past week."

I sit on the bed and look at the walls. She has created a very restful place to view art.

"I'm so happy it's happening for you, Tanya."

"And for you, lady." She smiles and squeezes my hand. "Now tell me all about Paris!"

* * *

The success of the Paris column has Maggie outlining my next trip away for the magazine. She's sending me to Germany for the Christmas markets, and Edward will join me again. Now Masen's is fully staffed with a competent part-time chef, Alistair, and his assistant, Lauren, everyone has the flexibility to take leave.

Emmett's new roster gives us two days off each week so Edward and I decide to get out of the city. When I tell him to choose anywhere he wants, he looks at the map and says, "What about Brighton? It's not that far, and I'd like to see the ocean." He works hard and never complains, so I just want to pamper him.

We stay at a B&B called "A Room With A View," the view being Brighton Pier, but the weather is cold and drizzly, perfect for staying in bed. Edward is insatiable, bruising me by gripping a little too tightly, sucking a little harder than usual. As the bruises bloom, he's horrified, thinking he's hurt me, but I like having his marks in private places when only we know they are there. Honestly, I would not have missed that kind of sex for the world. Our physical connection is so strong now, I can't get enough of him. We only leave the room once to eat at "Riddle and Fins," an oyster bar where we have whole crab and try langoustines for the first time.

We see how much we needed time completely alone, and it feels like we're finally achieving the balance we were missing before. Having a home-cooked meal with Ang and Ben the following week, I watch Edward unwinding, drinking and joking around. Staying in bed until late the next day is a luxury I almost forgot.

It's my turn to choose next, and on Emmett's recommendation, I want to see why there's so much hype about Bath. "There's a bus tour to Stonehenge and Bath, but I don't want to come back to London directly. Can we rent a car and take the train back the next day?"

"Yeah, but I book the car."

"You sure?"

He nods and smiles. "I feel like driving."

* * *

The thing about Stonehenge is that it's old—3,000 years B.C. old—already standing before the pharaohs constructed the pyramids. Because of that unimaginable age, much has already toppled over, and its keepers want to preserve what's left. There are ropes and restrictions that piss people off, but that's the way of the world these days. Ancient walls and objects stand behind glass to stop oily fingers from bleaching their color. Flash photography is banned everywhere.

We're not permitted in to walk around the stones unless we pay a hundred pounds for the privilege. On this regular tour, we can't get near them. We can only let our imagination decide why they built this and what the living did here in a time of prehistory. From the bones underground, the experts know it's a Druid burial site, but everything else is speculation. Some say they made human sacrifices here, and others believe they worshipped the heavens. No one really knows what powers people believed it possessed, if they brought their sick seeking miracles, or used the stones as a temple to honor and bury their dead.

Edward is reverently quiet as we walk around the site, and I lean on him when we stand together, taking it in. People are loud about their disappointment, having come to Stonehenge seeking answers, but I like it better as an enigma. I enjoy the visit, but many on the bus grumble that they did not.

Bath, on the other hand, is a city thriving in preserved history. The whole town is a World Heritage site, constructed from a local stone that glows golden in the late autumn sun. Rose said that Bath looked Roman, but I think she missed how English it is. Vast circular streets of Georgian villas once shared the parcel of green land out front for their sheep to graze, like the "commons" that exist in London today.

Roman statues watch over the columns surrounding the thermal baths. They remind us of the engineering feat that drew the water from a bubbling pit of mud and created a stylish place for business and pleasure. Jane Austen came here with her family for the water's healing powers and based two novels in Bath. Charles Dickens lived here on and off.

I can see why a million people come here every year. Bath is gorgeous.

Edward's grin tells me he's up to something as we approach the car rental place. Fifteen minutes later, we're speeding away in a very nice Audi. I should be loving this, but I'm freaking out on the wrong side up front. At a set of traffic lights, someone turns left, and I'm sure they're going to hit us head-on.

"How are you so calm?" I ask when I can open my eyes again.

"It's an automatic." How that is the answer to my question is anyone's guess. "I'm kinda disappointed the drive is so short."

Well, I'm not, but the look on his face when we pull up at our farmhouse B&B makes up for the stress in getting here.

The owner is lovely, asking if we know Castle Combe was the setting for several British films. The castle is long gone now, just ruins overlooking the town. It's just a short stroll through woodlands to the stone bridge over the Bybrook River where ducks play in the stream. As we walk up the hill, there's a sameness to all the buildings here, a light brown that blends with the autumn woods around them. It's Hogsmeade from Harry Potter, come to life with church bells.

Four men, dressed beautifully in suits with lapel flowers walk toward a video photographer.

"Groomsmen," Edward remarks, sitting on a low stone wall and pulling me between his legs. The men look happy as they walk past the camera into the nearby church. The bells cease, and it's completely quiet until we hear horseshoes on stone. Two magnificent horses appear, as white as they carriage they pull. It's a lovely way for the bride to arrive, like Cinderella, with her father by her side.

A man and woman are sitting up top, dressed in black suits and hats. They pull the horses to stand in front of the church, where three bridesmaids are waiting. The bride removes her shawl, revealing long white gloves and bare shoulders, so I imagine their time outside will be limited. She is pretty with her strawberry blonde hair expertly swept up, nervously smiling as her father helps her down.

Muted organ music comes from the church, so we enter the pub across the road. People are sitting out front, and we join them with our drinks for the last of the afternoon sun. It's interesting watching the couple in black care for the horses while they wait.

Edward puts down his beer and sighs. "I'm going to get a menu." When he comes back, he's shaking his head. "Nothing 'til six. Emmett would have something to say about that business decision."

"Do you want to leave? There are other places in town."

"Nuh, let's see these two come out and get in the carriage. I've never been to a wedding."

I look at him, hoping he's joking. "No way. Really?"

"I'm the oldest grandchild, and I don't remember any weddings in Chicago."

"What about when you went back to Italy?"

"Nope, never."

I've only attended two weddings in my life, but the word "never" makes me terribly sad. It's one more thing he's missed out on. "I want to sit in your lap. Is that appropriate?"

He smiles and holds his arm out for me. "It's always appropriate. C'mere."

I'm feeling dreamy and warm when the bells toll again. The photographer backs out of the church, followed by the newlyweds and their attendants. As the guests flow out, there are hugs and kisses, big smiles. Formal photos commence with more people added until a group photo completes the shoot. Then they shower the couple with rice on their way to the carriage where the groom helps his bride with her shawl and kisses her soundly.

Cheers beside me come from the patrons of the pub standing outside with us, some of them holding their glasses in the air. When the newlyweds are seated, the horses move forward slowly, taking the carriage on a lap around the roundabout and back up past us, followed by the guests on foot. Nearly everyone stands and follows, leaving us wondering what to do. We give each other a "why not?" look and join them. The carriage turns to the left up a long driveway leading to a grand building.

"The Manor House Hotel and Golf Club," Edward reads from the sign. "Charlie would love this."

"Oh, yeah." I notice the guests keeping to the road behind the carriage while we wedding crashers amble over a tiny bridge and walk up the fairway. The Manor House is impressive, like a small village itself, with dozens of roofs and chimneys, even a bell tower. The front corner would be covered in green ivy during summer, but it's bare of leaves now. The Union Jack flies proudly near the entry.

Edward shows no sign of turning back, walking right in the front door as if he is going to join the wedding. He looks over the sign that advertises what the hotel has to offer and squeezes my hand. "The Bybrook. That's us." We soon locate the restaurant, empty of customers, and a man comes to greet us. "Are you serving dinner tonight?"

"Seven 'til nine, sir. Would you like me to book you in?"

I feel his hand go rigid. "Is there anything open now?"

"Oh, yes. The lounge just over there, or there's the clubhouse. Both are serving food—more informal but very good. There's the Full Glass Bar if you'd like to come back and join us."

"Thank you very much." From the look on Edward's face, he's impressed with the way the man conducted himself. When we walk into the lounge, the smell of food and the view of the course are welcoming. We sit down in tub chairs and enjoy the warmth emanating from the honey-colored stone interior and the hotel's heating. Edward takes off his jacket and lays it over the back of his chair. "Well, he turned that around. I thought we were going to get the 'Are you a member here?' question, but he was actually very nice."

"He _was_ nice." I can't help smirking at Edward assessing his competition.

"That guy at the pub… How do they survive? He just lost his entire evening's trade by not having food available. The place was empty when we all walked out, and look at his customers now." He nods toward a group who walked with us from the pub, already drinking and reading their menus. "They were probably as hungry as I am. Do you want a drink, babe?"

"Yes please. I'll have… a whiskey and ginger." I think living here is starting to rub off on me. I would have never considered such a drink back home, but it's popular at Masen's, and the last one I had was delicious.

Edward raises his eyebrows and answers in his best McMasen accent, "Aye, lassie, comin' right up." God, that rolling R is killer, every time. When he returns, he holds up his glass to toast. "To days off and new experiences."

Smiling, I touch my glass to his and add, "With someone you love."

He kisses me and says, "Yes, with someone you love."

This place serves the most decadent panini and chips. First of all, they look fantastic, and then they're so crunchy and tasty, I devour everything on my plate.

"We should be serving this at the pub."

"You can suggest it, babe, but don't make it sound like it came from me."

"Why?"

"I want Liam to have full control of the menu. We're at capacity for lunch and dinner, so there's no need for me to get involved."

"Is Emmett happy with the business? He hasn't made any changes."

"Yeah, he is. While we're making good profit, he's not going to change a thing."

"So, we're doing okay?"

With a slight frown, he answers, "Are you worried about it?"

"No, I'm just interested. I'm kind of removed from the day to day stuff."

He looks out the windows, suddenly deep in thought. There are people from the wedding reception, smoking cigarettes outside.

"Do you still want to have a wedding?" Edward asks.

"What?" I don't know where this is coming from.

He turns to me. "You never mention it. You can say if you've gone off the idea." I stare at him, wondering how he could think such a thing. "Don't you have to book these things far in advance? I thought we said a year."

"There's no rush, Edward."

With a shrug, he says, "Okay," but it's obviously not okay.

I pick up his hand. "It doesn't change how I feel about you." He nods and finishes his beer. "Have I hurt you? I still want a wedding, but it hasn't been a priority."

"Don't worry about it."

"And now I will make it a priority. Okay?"

He pulls my hand to his lips, and a gentle smile spreads across his face. "My love." He doesn't need to say anything else to show me I've calmed his silly fears.

Our hosts at the B&B serve an enormous breakfast before we head out, and Edward asks them about driving to Wales. It sounds like a big deal, but it's only forty minutes to the oldest standing castle in Britain at Chepstow and then another hour to the capital. Edward is a good driver, and I start to get used to the left hand side of the road.

Cardiff has wide streets that show off its beautiful old buildings and churches. As we drive past Cardiff Castle, I gasp because it looks like a giant football has smashed through the castle wall. On closer inspection, and after some Googling on my phone, I find it's only advertising. The Rugby Union World Cup is on, and this year's host nation is England. I guess I should know these things, but the sport is not on my radar. Principality Stadium, owned by Welsh Rugby, is where some of the games have been played. Its capacity is nearly double that of Safeco Field in Seattle, so rugby is obviously popular here.

The waterfront of Cardiff Bay is modern and lively. I'm sorry I thought Cardiff was industrial and dirty because it's nothing like that. This is a great city for tourists, one of many places I'd like to come back to investigate.

"That was a great couple of days." Edward stretches as the man checks over our car. We haven't exceeded our mileage allowance, there's no damage, and we've just filled the tank, so we're out of there quickly for the train to London. Edward falls asleep, having driven all day, and it gives me time to think about what I want for our wedding.

While my family has never been religious, I've always pictured a church, so Edward being Catholic sorts that part out. A place like the Manor House with its own golf course would sure keep my father happy, but is it me? It would be nice for Edward and Dad to play golf since they bonded over the sport, but they were talking about Scotland, and I still associate it the depths of the North Sea.

Anyway, I don't think we can go far when I want Emmett and Tanya and Ang and Ben to be there. I'd like all of the staff there actually, so it's probably going to be a morning wedding in London and a reception for those not working. Heaven forbid I suggest we close for one day. I wonder how that would fly.

Then there's the problem of my family who've never left the States and whom I hardly ever see. Mom and Dad are not what you would call big travelers, vacationing in Hawaii twice and Mexico once, so who convinces the Arizona crowd to come to England for a wedding? Me? I'll have to make an effort or there will be only two representing both sides of my family. And when does this wedding happen? Next spring or summer would be great, but can I still find somewhere available in London? There are so many questions, and I'm only getting started.

I will begin researching as soon as I've written my review of the weekend, answered the comments, and finished my column.

* * *

Carlisle sends the first photos from Stresa. They show him working on the roof with Joey and another assistant, and I can't stop grinning. He's planning to rebuild and extend the deck to maximize access to the view. They're already talking about serving dinner outside when the hotel is up and running. I would love to be there with them, looking over the lake, and I'm imagining the hotel finished when the obvious dawns on me.

"That's where we should have our wedding, Edward."

"You want to have the wedding in Stresa?" He doesn't believe I'm serious. "You don't have to do that for me."

"I always wanted a ceremony in a church, and I don't have my own. Mom would love it there. Maybe your uncle's family would come over from the States. Just imagine how happy Nonna would be to have everyone together? It makes sense to have it in Stresa. Most of our guests are already there, and the rest have a great choice of good accommodations. Some of the Arizona crowd might come if this is the destination. I need to talk to Mom. They'll be here for Christmas, and by then, Carlisle should know how long the job will take to complete."

"Are you sure?

"I don't know why I didn't think of it before. How gorgeous would our photos be with that backdrop? I love that hotel."

"Jesus, me too." He's so happy, he sweeps me up in his arms and twirls me around.

"Hey, can you play golf there?"

"Uh... yeah, there's a course at Alpino."

"Then it's going to be perfect," I say as we laugh and kiss.

 _ **Thanks for reading xo**_


	27. Chapter 27

**_Once again, thanks for the amazing reviews. This fandom is full of such supportive people and I appreciate the time you've taken to even read, let alone give me your words of encouragement._**

 ** _I can't thank Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley enough. They're just the best women around. Special thanks go to fanfictionalcolic for all the material she gave me and her guidance with the section on Paris, and to Ipsy for... always finding that one thing that isn't quite right. My love to you all xxx_**

* * *

 **Chapter 27**

Tanya, Emmett, and Jasper are going to Canterbury for her father's fiftieth birthday party. Tanya is excited about introducing Emmett to the extended family and taking a few days off to go sightseeing.

Knowing I won't see her for a while, I have to tell her about the wedding. She hugs me when I ask her to be a bridesmaid and accepts immediately. We both know Edward will want Emmett as best man and start to speculate on how they'll staff the pub with the two of them away. We quickly decide it's not our problem when we have a wedding to arrange.

Neither of us knows anything about Italian wedding customs so Tanya jumps on my laptop to research. "There are rules about months. It's bad luck to marry in May, and November is the month they celebrate the dead, whatever that means. April and June are the most popular, followed by September. March is out because of Lent, December the same with Advent, and they don't like July or August because people go away on vacation."

"Okay. That must be why Edward never attended a wedding in Stresa. They always went during school vacation in July. Do you know he's never been to a wedding?"

"Oh." Her face drops like mine did when I heard that.

"I know."

"We'll make sure this is a good one." With a little smile, she looks back at the screen. "Are you ready for days of the week?"

I'm beginning to regret this already, never suspecting I'd need to take notes. "Yeah, hit me."

"Tuesdays and Fridays are bad luck in general. They will tolerate a Saturday wedding but Sunday is the luckiest day for the bond of matrimony."

"Isn't Sunday a holy day?"

"I would have thought so. Hey, the word 'honeymoon' comes from ancient Rome. The married couple would spend one phase of the moon together…"

"And eat honey with every meal. I read that somewhere before." A whole month away together would be fantastic but completely unrealistic.

"It's lucky to wear a veil given to you by a happily married woman." I smile because Mom kept her veil for my wedding day. "But it's bad luck to buy your engagement and wedding rings at the same time." She raises her eyebrows over that one.

"Shut up." I lean over her shoulder to see if she's making it up.

"It's Edward's job to buy the bouquets. The tradition comes from the groom picking the bride's flowers and delivering them on the morning of the wedding. It's supposed to be his last gift before they marry."

"Oh, I like that."

My phone sounds with notifications from the blog, and I'm smiling as I check it. I've trained myself to read them as soon as they arrive and steer the conversation away from distasteful subjects. Along with the many wonderful people who post genuine comments, there are crazies who get off on writing terrible things. I'm used to it now, and I delete when I have to, trying to keep on top of it while I'm awake. Tonight, the first comment has a sense of urgency about it.

" _Something is going down in Paris."_

" _I was watching the game on TV."_

" _So was I, and now it's chaos! A second bomb went off!"_

" _Suicide bombers detonated outside the stadium."_

Seeing those words is frightening and jarring, like madness spreading. Just yesterday, the news showed blasts like this in Beirut that killed dozens of people.

" _Security stopped them getting in."_

" _No, I'm in the city! We were walking to Goncourt Station. We thought it was fireworks, but someone said it was a shooting, and now there are sirens everywhere."_

" _2 restaurants in Rue Alibert."_

" _It's a few blocks south of there, actually. I heard the shots and can hear shouting now!"_

" _We're staying in Rue Alibert, and I can see the police from my window. IT IS HERE!"_

" _Well, it's here too!"_

" _What the fuck is happening?"_

I read the comments to Tanya, unable to keep up as the conversation multiplies. When my phone starts to ring and I see Dad's name, I put him on speaker. _"Where are you, Bells?"_ he asks in his calming cop voice.

"At the pub."

I hear the deep sigh come through the phone. _"Stay indoors, okay?"_

"What's happening in Paris, Dad? People are reporting in the blog."

" _It's a terrorist attack—three maniacs have blown themselves up. Shooters are driving up and firing at people out eating. I've got to go, but you stay inside tonight and tomorrow. That's an order."_

It's incredible seeing it unfold on the blog with all the emotion coming through. Before long, the coverage takes over the television, and it becomes clear most of the attacks occurred in the eleventh district on the eastern side of the city. I can't help thinking it could have been us when we were there only weeks ago, so in love with the city and each other. Just the thought that bombs could have detonated inside a packed football stadium makes me sick to my stomach.

The Parisians rally together, creating the hashtag "PorteOuverte" (open doors), offering safe haven for the stranded. It's everywhere, including details of accommodation for those seeking refuge, desperate for information. Facebook activates the "Safety Check" feature, urging everyone in the affected areas to broadcast they are safe.

Just when we think it's all over, there is new footage of a hostage situation—police storming a building near where the other attacks took place. The awful news comes through that this was a crowded concert venue, where assassins opened fire on the audience after sealing the building. The lucky ones are finally escaping and reporting on the carnage inside.

Watching interviews with incoherent people suffering and terrified makes me angry. I feel very protective of my beautiful Paris tonight. Tanya and Emmett stay over, and Edward holds me when I break down.

The venom that populates the blog is scary. The name "Islamic State" is used with hatred by misguided individuals, pointing the finger at all Muslims as the perpetrators. Some poor confused soul writes she's not leaving her hotel room until the killers are captured.

I have conversations with people in Paris, trying to convince them to wait a few days and calm down before they abandon their vacation and go home. Recounting stories of the heroes who risked their lives for others, I think I'm helping, when some are still reliving the sight of blood splattered on walls. I can't put myself in their shoes. They need to vent, so I listen and share our love for a city plunged into a state of war.

My father's warning keeps me from the vigil in Trafalgar Square. Hundreds of people attend, and I'm struggling to breathe as I watch on TV, expecting terrorists to target them next. It takes days to stop anticipating a bomb here in London, and I'm glad Tanya, Emmett, and Jasper are out of here.

I'm not sure if the increased police presence in the city is a comfort or a worry.

All travel for the magazine is suspended. Maggie calls to apologize, saying it's a temporary precaution, but the trip to Germany is cancelled. "Maybe next year," she says. She assures me that Paris' tourist industry will recover, its power to attract visitors far stronger than any terrorist attack. She says it's the people who were there and the locals who may take years to get over it.

The column that week is not a summary of what happened. It's mostly direct quotes from the blog that tell a story better than I could ever write. All I have to do is present the truth in a respectful way.

When Mom and Dad ask if we can Skype, I know they are still anxious and seeing me will help ease their fears. I greet them with a smile, only to be met by two very serious faces.

Mom gets straight to the point. _"We've decided not to come to London for Christmas after all."_

"Why?"

" _It's not safe."_

"Dad, you know how high security is right now. It's probably the safest time to come here."

He plays with his moustache and doesn't say a word.

" _And I don't want my daughter reporting on terrorist attacks. You could be putting yourself in danger."_

She's serious. "I was only repeating what was said in the blog."

" _You know they target journalists and use them for ransom."_

"I'm not a war correspondent!"

" _Ladies, ladies!"_

Finally he says something. "Dad, she's overreacting."

" _In your eyes she might be, Bella, but if she's not comfortable flying to Europe, then we're not coming."_

"Fine."

* * *

We're having an orphan's Christmas now.

Laurent is taking leave, stating his mother will murder him if he's not home for the holidays. Ang, Ben, Tanya, and Jasper are going to their parents. Emmett hasn't had a family Christmas for years and he wants to go to Canterbury, so he starts a discussion on moving the food orders to the kitchen to free up the bartenders. It's the first time a real argument erupts in the pub when Liam puts his foot down about handling money and food. Emmett ends the fight and any further conversation by saying he'll stay in London. That just makes everyone else feel guilty.

It's better not to mention the family visa could arrive any day when there's no guarantee we'll get it for Christmas. I don't want to raise anyone's hopes by saying I might be able to work.

Tanya and I escape the tension with an afternoon at the Victoria and Albert Museum. The V&A is the world's largest museum of decorative arts and design, created to make works of art available to all. It's a glorious building, rich in its own architecture, housing millions of objects that represent five thousand years of art. The history is what I like as I wander around slowly, while Tanya flits back and forth between me and several exhibits she has come to see.

When we leave, she is refreshed and inspired, ready for Harrods' Christmas displays. Instead of the traditional themes I expected, they've chosen theater, carnival, and magic to fill the windows this year. The details capture me while Tanya stands back, seeing concepts. We each take away something different, but we're both feeling the festive spirit.

Our final stop is the Southbank Christmas markets because we have to decorate the pub. Plied with warm mulled wine and freshly cooked pretzels, I'm actually glad I wasn't trying to buy all this in Germany because I have no idea where to start or how much to buy. I used to help Mom with the house but I never planned anything myself.

"Do you want to leave it to me?" Tanya asks, watching me struggle to make a decision. "I have lots of ideas."

I sigh with deep gratitude. "I'll help. Just tell me what to do."

With her arm around my shoulder, she calls to the vendor, "We'll have a dozen of those garlands." She's pointing at the thickest, darkest green kind with battery-operated fairy lights, making me think the job is going to be easy. Then she buys the booth's entire stock of bronze, gold, and silver colored glass balls, saying she'll use most of them on the tree. This tree is going to be a doozy.

Expecting to start decorating immediately, I'm surprised when she goes missing for days. All Emmett will tell me is that she's working on a Christmas painting for the pub. When she finally shows up, it's early morning, and Jasper walks in, rolling his eyes. He's holding a kind of mannequin, an iron wire female torso on a stand. Tanya and Emmett are carrying the painting between them. She unwraps the piece, removing a large disk-shaped package that she leans against the wall. Then she turns the painting over and we all stare, our mouths hanging open.

Santa is laughing, riding an enormous dragon as it soars past Big Ben, with a big full moon and the London Eye ablaze with lights in the background. The dragon has come straight from Tanya's imagination, and it's nothing like the fire-breathing kind. This one is gentle, gliding on the air currents over the Thames. It has the long snout and head of a seahorse, but this is no fragile sea creature. Its powerful neck and mighty wingspan declare its mastery of the skies.

Huge bags hang from a saddle that runs along the dragon's back, and red boxes fly out of their own accord, disappearing down Peter Pan chimneys below. Everything is sprinkled with golden dust and a thick trail in the sky shows where the dragon has been.

It's magic, pure and simple, and I smile, wishing I could have a ride.

"I better get on with it," Emmett says as he leaves. "I have to drill a couple of holes, Ed."

"Sure, no problem."

"Just until Christmas, okay?" Tanya asks Edward, ready to switch Santa for our tightrope artist. "I hope I can sell it." He nods in agreement, obviously impressed. "I'll take the other one upstairs." She pulls over a chair and hands the painting down to Jasper, who takes it with care before offering up the new one.

"Fantastic." The word leaps from my mouth, amazed at the creative talent that whipped this up in just a few days.

"I'll see if Em needs help," Jasper states, quickly leaving. We pick up the other painting between us, and Tanya asks Edward if he'll carry the mannequin. I shake my head when I notice he's holding it by the boobs.

"What are they bringing back?" I ask.

"He's renting a ladder and a drill. You can put that down, Edward. Thanks."

He places the stand on the floor and backs away. "I'll leave you to it."

"Okay, Bella, this is your job. It's fiddly, but the impact will be worth it. I want you to cover her with lights, then every one of those curls gets an ornament. The lights will make them sparkle, and she'll glow. Don't forget the shoulders and the collar."

She hunts through the bags, leaving what I'll need on the bed, and hands me two boxes of fairy lights. I look between Tanya and the mannequin, ready for more instructions.

"Start at the back with the lights and work upwards with the ornaments. Don't be stingy. When in doubt, use more, okay?" Laden with the remaining bags, she takes a step toward the door as if she's in a hurry, and I watch her, knowing I'll never live up to what she has in her mind. She frowns and drops her shoulders compassionately. "Whatever you do will look great, Bella. Come down when you're finished and see the Christmas tree."

 _Why does she trust me to do this? I haven't got a drop of artistic blood!_

Mumbling to myself, I tackle the lights, winding them in and out of the metal curls. By the time I've used up one set, I hear Emmett's voice and the sound of a drill.

 _Why would they need a drill for a Christmas tree?_

It's a question I can't ponder when I have to keep going. When I'm finally happy with the lights, I plug them in and stand back. I have to admit, I like the instant gratification.

 _This girl doesn't need more decoration. She's sensational as she is!_

Sighing, I know Tanya is expecting me to add the ornaments, so I make a half-hearted start. I'm really not a spontaneous person. Random looks terrible, so I take them off. I try one diagonal row, but the curls are not precisely aligned, and it appears haphazard. Removing them again, I stand back and hope for inspiration.

This woman has curves, and she's proud of them. Edward had ahold of them. Instead of overthinking it, I start from the bottom with gold, changing to copper where the waist dips in and then silver to accentuate the breasts. Quicker than I expected, she's done, and when I plug the lights back in, I see what Tanya meant by the sparkle and glow.

Proudly bouncing down the stairs, I'm eager for approval, when I almost stumble at the sight in front of me. There's an enormous yellow ladder towering over the room. Then I see why they needed it. Everyone is looking up at a floating Christmas tree, made of rings of glass balls hanging on fishing lines. Each ring is crammed full of a single color, the one above slightly smaller. Even the lines are beautiful, like rain falling down from the large disk she brought with her. Its underside is covered strategically with more ornaments, so it creates an illusion. The whole thing hangs from a thick wire strung high across the expanse of the pub.

Tanya is moving around, assessing it from different angles. "We don't have to take the wire down. We could hang other things up there. They just have to be lightweight."

Edward extends his arm to see if he can touch the lower ring, but it's just out of reach. "A flag would look good," he suggests.

"Yes, it would," I say with a smile. "But which flag?"

They turn at the sound of my voice. "You like it?" Tanya asks.

Nodding, I answer. "It's fabulous."

"And how did _you_ go?"

Smugly, I answer. "I'm finished." Even though she's the genius, I'm still proud of my effort upstairs.

Tanya takes the stairs two at a time, and I gather from the scream she likes what I've done. "Jazz, can you help me?"

He gives me a glare and says, "She's a pain in the bum."

Just as I start to follow him, there's a knock on the front door, and a courier asks me to sign for a large cardboard envelope. Inside is what we've been anticipating—the documents approving the family visa. When I look at Edward, he's watching me, and when I nod, he wants to see for himself. I cling to him as he reads, happy I no longer have to worry about anything. If I want to help in the pub, I'm allowed. I can even work behind the bar.

"You know what this means for Em, for Christmas."

He kisses my forehead and says, "Go for it, babe."

"Hey, Em?" I ask casually. "You still want to go to Tanya's family for Christmas?" Edward rests his cheek on my head.

"Why?" Emmett asks, wary after last week's argument.

"I can work."

"You can work," he deadpans, not registering my words have meaning for him.

Holding the letter up, I proclaim, "I have a new visa."

"And I trained her," Edward adds, hugging me tightly.

As Tanya and Jasper come down the stairs, Tanya asks, "Who can work?"

"I can." Triumphantly, I smile. "I now have a visa as Edward's wife, and I can work anywhere I damn well please. Em can go to Christmas with you. I'll work."

The mannequin is abandoned as her eyes double in size. She smiles at Emmett and then surrounds Edward and me in a group hug. "I love you guys. I really love you guys."

Tanya is funny the first time we plug the mannequin in downstairs. "She'll draw their eyes in, and then they'll go, 'What the fuck is Santa doing?'" We both crack up, but I wonder if she realizes this is a wonderful piece of art.

With the garlands in place and the decorations complete, the pub takes on its Christmas persona. I upload photos to the blog to show it off, but I'm disappointed with the nighttime images I get on my phone, unable to capture how special it looks. I can't show how the glowing mannequin near the painting brings out the magic sparkles even more.

Edward hangs mistletoe at one end of the bar. Every time we're there together, he points it out as if it's the first time he's seen it and grabs me for a kiss. The more times he does it, the funnier it is. I really do love that man.

Mom calls to say how lovely everything looks. I've relinquished my anger over her decision to cancel their trip, but I haven't felt like calling.

" _What are you doing for Christmas, Bella?"_

"I'm working in the pub."

" _In the pub? I thought…"_

"The family visa arrived, so I'm working with Edward. What are you two doing?"

" _We're probably going to Phoenix. It seems like only yesterday you were coming home for the holidays."_

"It feels like a long time to me. So much has happened."

" _This new visa… You're definitely staying there now?"_

I just sigh. We've been over this before. "I've signed a three-year contract with the magazine."

" _Yes, okay... I forgot."_

"Mom? What happens if Edward and I decide to have a wedding next year? Will you come?"

The long silence is worrying, and I'm just about to ask if she's still there when she answers, _"Do you really need another wedding, Bella?"_

That hurts, especially when we talked about the hair comb tying the two weddings together. Back then, she was saving her veil for me. Rather than argue, we end the call on a slightly bitter note. I can only hope she'll warm to the idea again once I start sending her photos of Stresa.

* * *

Choosing the right gift for my husband is difficult. Having found Hardy Amies of Savile Row, I almost get him a coat (called a mac) that would look great on him, but something tells me not to buy it that day. When I do find the perfect present, I'm so excited I have to hold back from telling him right away what it is.

Getting his gift completes my Christmas shopping. I've already sent Mom and Dad's presents to Seattle and bought my Secret Santa gift—a Union Jack umbrella for Lauren. It's a nice one, too, with a wooden handle and navy top. I hope she likes it because there were no guidelines, except to keep it under twenty quid and have it ready before the others go home for Christmas.

Edward hasn't mentioned presents yet, but I'm not going to stress about it. From what the others say, men can go out the day before and come back happy with their purchases. Crazy.

Liam, on the other hand, has been trialing dishes for the Christmas menu weeks in advance, and I've tasted things I never tried before. He has warmed to me lately, ever since I told him about the paninis we had at Castle Combe. I should have known his would be better, and I declared they had to go on the menu. Then he surprised me, opening up to express his concerns for his mother rushing into a serious relationship with Carlisle.

"I don't think you need to worry. Carlisle is a very caring man."

He sighed. "She's isolated, Bella. Her family are in Ireland and Dad's are in Scotland. Now she's abandoned her house and gone to live in Italy?" As he shook his head, I could see he was truly worried, but his emotions were clouding his judgement. He was the one who was isolated, not seeing an adventure with a handsome man in a different country was probably just what Siobhan needed. She did go there and see for herself before she made the decision.

"How long is it since you lost your dad?"

"Two years."

"Then how many years do you think she should mourn? Carlisle's been on his own for too long."

"I know, and I don't want her to be on her own. I just don't want to see her get hurt." He looked away as if he could have said a lot more.

"What about you, Liam? Have you been hurt?"

"What?"

"Is there no girlfriend?"

He glanced around and snorted before he spoke. "I took this job because it was becoming too much working with my girlfriend at another restaurant but leaving didn't fix anything. We're finished now."

"I'm sorry." Liam had always seemed aloof to me, but he was just a lonely man, filling his long days with work.

Now I help him by cooking a giant pot of my pasta sauce once a week. He uses it as the base for his Spicy Seafood Hotpot—the "Friday special".

Today, Jasper and I are making plum puddings. I haven't seen one plum, only mountains of sherry-soaked raisins that Jasper is battling to incorporate into the mixture. We have weighed every ingredient precisely, so I gather this is a recipe we can't improvise. I'm glad my current contribution is buttering the inside of the little pudding bowls, because the mixing looks like a serious workout.

Liam hands me a toothpick holding a small bacon wrapped parcel. "What is it this time?" I ask. "I'm going to get fat."

With a smirk, he answers, "Devils on horseback."

I frown at him. "Why does everything have weird names, like 'spotted dick' and 'Welsh rarebit'?"

He chuckles. "Are you going to try it?"

I check it out carefully before it goes in my mouth. The bacon is wrapped around something black. "Here goes, but only because I trust you." My taste buds explode, and I close my eyes when I take a bite. The bacon is tender with the right amount of crisp. The black is some sort of fruit, succulent and sweet, and there's a hint of heat. "Mustard?" He smiles as he nods. "What is this fruit?"

"Prune."

"Is there another one I can try?"

"I thought you didn't want to get fat," he answers with a self-satisfied smile.

"I will make an exception for Christmas, Liam."

The "devils on horseback" and their sausage counterparts he calls "pigs in blankets," become a surprise treat for the Secret Santa festivities. Liam proudly wears his printed Roman gladiator apron with gusto, and Jasper can't believe someone gave him an authentic Japanese chef's knife. Tanya's hand-decorated fortune cookies look too perfect to break. My Paddington Bear with his little suitcase is very thoughtful and a fitting companion for Klaus and Claymore.

But the highlight is Emmett following the instructions as he demonstrates the "Public Toilet Survival Kit." He can't get the plastic gloves over his big hands and gives up on opening the alcohol wipes, proclaiming he would have already shit his pants by now. With the paper toilet seat cover around his neck, he starts to show us the other half of the present, the "Weener Cleaner" soap in the shape of a donut, but everyone sings out that they don't want an explanation.

It's a very funny morning—the first time we're all together and not working. Even Ben is included because we couldn't leave him out.

* * *

"Incredible," Edward says as he hands me his phone and smiles.

The text from Carlisle reads, _"We're celebrating. We finished the deck for Christmas!"_ He's sent an image of him with Siobhan, having a drink outside with thick white clouds shrouding Stresa. They look happy, lightly dusted with snow. In the next photo, Alice, Valentina, and a smiling Joey join them. Joey looks different, but it's the last shot that lifts my spirits more than the joyous faces that came before. Siobhan has stepped out of the shot, replaced by Mary at Joey's side.

I'm grinning from ear to ear. "She's back?"

"That's what it looks like, doesn't it? I'm going to ask about the wedding."

I'm full of nervous energy as Edward calls and hits the speaker button. When Carlisle answers, there's music and laughter in the background.

" _Hello, Son,"_ he says with a chuckle.

"Love the photos, Dad! You have snow."

" _Well, we have whiteout and a little snow."_

"How are you?"

" _I'm great, looking forward to some relaxation and Siobhan's Christmas feast."_

"And Alice?"

" _Alice is fine, really good in fact, but…" We hear him sigh. "She's a teenager, Edward. Some days I could throttle her."_

"Okay." Edward looks like he wished he hadn't asked. "But she's still happy?"

" _Oh yes, especially now we have six living here."_

"I was going to ask about the photo. Is Mary back?"

" _Yes, and I credit most of it to Siobhan. She is a great listener, Edward. She's done wonders getting them to communicate and examine how their stubborn behavior affects their daughter."_

"Wow, she's quite a catch, Dad. What do we call her? Is she your girlfriend?"

" _Girlfriend? Perhaps. I know I see her in my future. How's Bella?"_

I wrap my arm around Edward's shoulders. "I'm right here, Carlisle, enjoying the good news."

"Actually, Dad, we called to discuss something important."

" _Nothing serious, I hope."_

"No, no," Edward says, laughing. "We want to know when you expect to finish the hotel. In our rush to get married, we didn't do the wedding part, and we'd love to hold our reception there."

" _We won't be ready until summer, Edward. We haven't touched the interior yet. I can't see…"_

"We're thinking about June, Dad."

" _Oh... I'm certain we can do June. In fact, we'll make sure we're ready!"_ I don't realize I'm squealing until Edward kisses me. _"I'll finally get to meet the Swans."_

Breaking the kiss, I can only sigh. "I don't know if Mom and Dad are going to come yet."

" _What? I'm sure they'll be there."_

"Mom's still shell-shocked after what happened in Paris. She's very negative about going overseas."

" _Have they been to Europe before?"_

"No, never."

" _Well, just give her time, Bella. She's a long way away from her only daughter."_

"I know."

* * *

Wearing my new white shirt and black slacks, I work well with my husband and Eric behind the bar. Christmas Eve is so busy, we're run off our feet. When the regulars leave, a new kind of clientele come in—the very lonely souls who drink on their own and those bringing family and friends from out of town. Edward and I both notice the man standing with his drink, looking at the Christmas painting. He wanders around the walls, closely inspecting Tanya's other works, then goes back to Santa.

Edward leans down to my ear when we see him approach. "He's been here before."

"Is Miss Denali here?" he asks in a posh London accent. His tie is loose, but the suit looks expensive, and he's carrying a couple of shopping bags from designer stores. He could be on his way home from work, buying last-minute gifts.

"She's away actually. Are you interested in one of the paintings?" Tanya has instructed us on exactly what we should say if anyone inquires about the Christmas painting. I disagreed with her at first, but now I see how she's creating a kind of auction to get as much as she can. So far, the highest bid is four thousand pounds. I happen to know she wants five.

"Yes, the one at the front—the Santa."

"I'm sorry; we're not allowed to discuss that painting." I hand him her card and add, "Tanya is handling the sale exclusively."

He reads the card and raises an eyebrow. "I see." This is where we sort out the men from the boys, where the potential buyer realizes the amount of money is too great for the staff to negotiate. He walks back to the painting, and I'm holding my breath as I watch him call the number on the card. He never takes his eyes off Santa during the conversation until I see him nod and smile to himself. He then leaves without glancing our way.

Tanya calls about a minute later. _"Is he still there?"_

"He just left."

" _Oh, my God. Oh, my God. I got it! I just emailed my bank details so he can transfer five thousand quid into my account! Can you wrap it for me in the morning? Please say you will? The corners are already done, and I'll call you with instructions. Oh, my God!"_

"Congratulations. Of course I'll wrap it. Merry Christmas, Tanya."

By the time we finish cleaning up, it's after midnight. "I want to give you your gift now," Edward offers, running his hands over my hair. He smiles and reaches up to retrieve a box he stashed on top of the wardrobe.

Sitting on the bed, I pull on the ribbon and glance up at his beautiful face. He's eager to see my reaction. As I rip the paper off, I'm touched he remembered the day I was trying to take nighttime photos without success. He's given me a Leica V-Lux camera, a chunky little thing that feels great in my hands.

"I thought you might want to take pictures of the painting tonight since it will be gone in the morning. The only thing I know is you use the handheld night shot setting. There's a three-hundred page pdf of instructions."

"I've never had a real camera. Thank you." I don't have the words to describe how special I feel right now, and my eyes start to well up.

"A journalist needs a camera."

Cupping his cheek, I respond, "And I need a man like you to make me feel complete. I love you, Edward Masen."

The camera is soon forgotten. It's 2:00 a.m. by the time we go downstairs to take photos. Before I flick the lights on, Edward stops me. The pub is bright from the full moon shining through the front windows, casting a silver glow over everything and highlighting the full moon in the painting. It's so curious how we're here at the exact time to see it like this.

* * *

Edward stirs with the click of the camera's shutter. I want to record our first Christmas morning together, and I'm dying to give him his gift. Switching to video, I hand him his envelope, and he raises himself on an elbow, rubbing his eyes. He's so cute when his face lights up as he reads.

"The Aston Martin is British, and the Ferrari is Italian. It's like this was made for you."

He sits up with a look of wonder on his face. "You're shitting me. I get to drive them both? At Silverstone? Where _is_ Silverstone? I've seen it on 'Top Gear.'"

I don't need to ask if he's happy with my gift—he's like a kid. "About 80 miles northwest. Merry Christmas, Edward."

"Merry Christmas, my love. Please put the camera down, and give your husband a kiss."

After we call Carlisle and Alice, I Skype Tanya for the instructions on wrapping the painting. I have to use heavyweight paper first, then cover it with Christmas wrap she conveniently has stored upstairs. Two men in a van arrive at ten to pick it up. Watching them go, I wonder about the circumstances that led to this guy buying something so late he didn't even have it there for Christmas morning. I gather he doesn't live with the person the painting is intended for, and I'm guessing it's his child. Even though that makes me sad, I can only imagine what it would feel like to receive a gift like this.

Christmas is the first day we've ever taken reservations, and we're full for three sittings: midday, three o'clock, and six. Our chef's preparations have been excellent, so they're almost ready when the first customers arrive. To tide us over, they've offered us the end slices of things and the imperfect-looking vegetables that still taste great. I'm glad because my mouth has been watering since they started cooking.

Liam doesn't do slices of turkey; he rolls it around stuffing to bake, coated with orange, cinnamon, and maple syrup to create its own delicious sauce. He also bakes ham, covered in mustard and crushed ginger cookies, and sprayed with bourbon. His baby beef tenderloins are rare, served on a bed of puff pastry, lightly cooked spinach, and mushrooms, then drizzled with green peppercorn and Madeira sauce. Each plate has a devil on horseback and a pig in a blanket, crispy baked potatoes, and the thing he says pulls it all together—root vegetables, onions, beets and garlic, caramelized and nearly soft.

With only a bread roll and butter to accompany the dish, these seven things have been carefully designed to impress without tampering too much with tradition. After a small plum pudding with custard and cream, we want the customers happy with the forty pounds we're charging as the set price. We've seen pubs advertising a hundred pounds for four courses, but they are not our competition as we don't have the room or the staff.

I'm a floater today. I won't be venturing into the kitchen, but I'm taking orders for drinks and bringing plates to the table. We're all prepared to do what's necessary to keep the show on the road, hoping they'll finish in two hours and give us enough time to clean up and start again.

The midday service goes off without a hitch, and I'm taking drinks orders for the three o'clock customers when I see who I'm serving. "What are you doing here?"

"Did I catch you breaking the law?"

"No, you didn't, James."

The smell of booze assaults me when he snorts. "No? You put the spotlight on me while you flaunt the conditions of your sponsorship. You can't work here, Bella."

"I have a new visa. It appears your research is inadequate."

"This is the little bitch who wrote the column for Zipline," he announces to his companions who seem to know what he's talking about.

They sing in unison, "Merry Christmas, bitch."

"Look James, I never mentioned your name, so if you recognized yourself, that's your problem, not mine. Might I add, it was _you_ breaking the law at the time. I'm just glad I said no to your sleazy proposition."

Edward arrives at my side. "Is there a problem?"

"I don't think we can serve these people. They're already drunk and clearly abusive."

Edward frowns and stares at me. With one word whispered between us, "James," he understands.

"She's right. If something happens to you, we're culpable, so it's better you leave before we serve you alcohol… unless you want _fizzy drinks_." Edward is well aware the English refer to pop or soda by this term, but the way he says it is like a jab at James' manhood. With the flick of an eyebrow, Edward challenges him to make a decision.

"Fuck that," James says aggressively, standing up. "We want Christmas lunch and a bottle of wine."

"Then I'm afraid I can't help you." The look Edward gives him is restrained but lethal. In my head, I'm begging James not to push this further.

He seems to shrink as they stand off, then says to his companions, "This is bullshit. Let's go somewhere else."

"A wise decision," Edward smiles as they leave, then winks at me and goes back to the bar as if they were never here.

That blip doesn't ruin the day. In fact, I'm glad we had a legitimate reason to eject James and his friends. He now knows he has nothing on me, but I have plenty of evidence if I want to pursue him, so I'm confident he won't come here again. That this had to happen on Christmas Day is neither here nor there. We fill the table quickly from a group having drinks, so we lose nothing.

At five, we Skype with Mom and Dad, who are just beginning their Christmas Day. We thank them for the money they gave us, and they say they love the gifts I sent. They're still in Seattle, planning to have lunch at the club. Keeping things pleasant, I don't ask why they didn't go to Phoenix or mention anything more about them coming to us. We just give them all the good news from Stresa. An exuberant Edward can't resist telling them about my gift, inviting Dad to join him at the racetrack. Dad's answer is nothing more than a nod and a grin, but I can see he'd love to. Mom makes no comment.

When we finally get our plum pudding, I see why this is such a favorite. The rich dessert needs the custard and cream to balance it. It's also very filling, a perfect choice to send our customers away feeling satisfied. Liam and Lauren deserve a bonus for what they've done here today.

* * *

It's wall to wall people on New Year's Eve, and all the bartenders are working. Lauren is still covering for Jasper who stayed in Canterbury for the whole week, and she's worked hard helping Liam change the menu to snacks easily eaten while standing. There's actually more dancing than standing tonight. Laurent's playlist is a mix of ten years of pop and rap, intermingled with anthems from bands like Coldplay, The Cure, INXS, and U2.

Eric spends his break with Lauren, and I'm watching. I know there's an after-hours thing going on between them, ever since he walked in with the umbrella I bought her for Secret Santa. They both do their jobs well, so it's none of my business, but I love seeing their relationship develop.

People I know from the blog come in during the evening and give us their stories of Christmas on the road. We're all dancing, close to midnight, when a pair of strong arms surround me. Edward is already kissing me before the countdown starts, and the fireworks on the Thames are nothing compared to what he's doing to me.

The first few days of January are gusty and wet. It's quiet in the pub and a letdown after the excitement of Christmas and New Year's. Tanya and I take down the decorations and talk about our plans for 2016. Her year seems full of promise while mine is in limbo. She wants to go ahead with the wedding plans, sure my parents will be there. I wish I shared her confidence.

We're all stunned by the news when David Bowie dies. Laurent has always included Bowie in the music he chooses for the pub, and today it plays non-stop.

People come in to eat and drink, but the atmosphere is different. It feels like the whole of London is subdued. Laurent goes through the motions without his smile or his spark. A middle-aged man holds up his glass in a toast as he listens to _Space Oddity_ and half the pub sing along.

The TV shows the mural painted in Bowie's birthplace, Brixton, becoming a shrine of flowers and messages. This beautiful image is how I will remember him as a young man with his "Aladdin Sane" lightning bolt across his face. The British Prime Minister uses the word "genius" in a tribute. NASA tweets, "The stars look very different today."

* * *

Maggie calls to outline my next trip for the magazine. I'm going to Venice for the second week of Carnevale. It will be cold and crowded, but she says if I go with the right attitude, it will be something I'll never forget. She wants fresh eyes on the event from the perspective of someone who's not there for the expensive dinners and masked balls. I _am_ looking forward to it, but more so because Edward is coming with me.

Mom wants all the details and not in a good way. She obsesses over the amount of time we'll be in the air, how we leave the airport, and how long it takes to reach our hotel. She's depressing me when traveling to Venice is simple. After a two-hour direct flight, we catch a boat from the airport that lets us off just a ten-minute walk from our hotel. It couldn't be easier.

Venice looks like a movie set during Carnevale. All around is theater, street people competing to be the most creative, outrageous, and magnificent. Some are futuristic and whimsical, while others are reminiscent of birds with resplendent plumage. How they can stand under the weight of their costumes is beyond me. Many have stepped out of an eighteenth century where wigs, feathers, and lace accessorize costumes worn by women _and_ men.

During the week, I am truly shocked by some of the things I see, then laugh until my sides hurt, struggling to cheer with a voice already hoarse from yelling. There are ridiculous crowds sometimes, areas gridlocked by people fanning in from many alleyways, so we make the decision to give in to the crush or ease our way out. We time our visits for the really packed events, huddling together until it's over and then leaving quickly. Just a few alleyways back, there's always a café with a leisurely coffee where we can sit and watch the colorful and obscure.

In one of these cafes we meet an Italian couple who show us the nightlife of Venice. They take us to a club in San Giuliano, packed with people drinking, dancing, and making out. When they offer Edward a joint, I'm interested to see if he's tempted, but he shakes his head, downs his shot and stands. He smiles at me and asks, "You wanna dance?"

It's hard not to be affected by what's going on around us when people are virtually having sex with their clothes on. The sweat, the pumping music, and our sexually charged dancing send us back to our hotel, horny as hell.

I'm going to find a club in London like this for one of our days off. Soon.

I return home, writing a different column than I expected. Yes, it is about attitude as Maggie said, but it's also about who we met and what opportunities they gave us. Plus, I have real photos and video this time. I love my little camera and the man who gave it to me.

When I send Mom a long email with photos, describing the great time we had, she responds, "I am glad you got home safely." It's like she knows how to instantly deflate my good mood. Instead of replying, I send a text to Dad, asking if we can talk without Mom around.

" _Hi, Bells,"_ he greets me casually, as if we spoke earlier in the day.

"Tell me what's going on with Mom? Is she okay?"

The deep sigh isn't good. _"It's been getting worse for a while now."_

"What has?"

" _The start of menopause and something called 'Empty Nest' syndrome. Some days she's worried she's losing you. It's a kind of depression."_

"Has she seen a doctor?"

" _Only for the menopause symptoms, but she won't take the meds."_

Blowing out a big breath of air, I'm shocked. I never expected a physical reason for the change in her, but I respect her right to refuse hormone replacement therapy.

"Is the depression part normal?"

" _It can be. The doctor offered her anti-depressants to help with the mood swings."_

"Shit."

" _Yeah, shit. That's what it's like living with her some days."_

"Can I help?"

" _You can be patient with her. She tells me you don't need her anymore."_

"That's not true."

" _It's not me you have to convince."_

"Did she tell you we want to have a wedding this year?"

" _Yes, but she didn't say when."_

"It will be June in Stresa. I haven't told her that yet."

" _Well, Izzy, that gives us… four months to gently work on her without her digging her heels in."_

"Yeah." He makes me chuckle. He hasn't called me Izzy in years.

 _ **Thanks for reading xo**_


	28. Chapter 28

**_Still with me? This really was supposed to be the last chapter - now it's the first part of it._**

 ** _Thank you, everyone, for reading and for sending the most amazing reviews._**

 ** _To my gang of three, Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley, you're nearly off the hook. Sorry this grew into such a long story, but thanks to each of you for your input into every chapter._**

 ** _My love to you all xxx_**

* * *

 **Chapter 28**

The revelation from Dad _does_ help me with Mom. With Edward's input, we start slowly, sending our best pictures of Stresa. I try to show her a part of the world where albino peacocks strut around magnificent gardens and fountains, where the fish on the plate is freshly caught and cooked, and where the view from the top of the mountain is the bluest of lakes on one side and snowy peaks on the other. I don't have to exaggerate anything—it's all true.

We talk about the date for the wedding, and Edward shrugs, simply asking, "When is the full moon?"

"That's a good idea." It _would_ be wonderful to have the orb glowing in the sky and see it shimmering on the lake at our wedding. I have grown very attached to the moon, and the last time we were in Stresa, we could only see a tiny sliver.

I look up the date on my phone, and I don't know if what I'm seeing is a good or bad sign, but it has to mean something. "It's your birthday, babe."

When I hand him the phone, clearly displaying June 20, he looks at the ground and shakes his head. I'm wondering if he'll want to pick another date when he gives it back to me and says, "You want a Sunday?"

"The Italians prefer it. They think it's good luck."

He sighs deeply as if he's making a momentous decision. "Okay, Sunday June 19, on one condition."

"What's that?"

He slides his hands into the back pockets of my jeans and pulls me to him. "You make love to me after midnight so I get a birthday present."

I chuckle. "Well, it will be our wedding night, handsome."

"And I'll wake up on my birthday in a good mood."

He's trying to be funny, but I see the emotion in his eyes. It breaks my heart to think of all the years he probably woke up as a teenager, dreading someone would want to celebrate. I hate that his birthday still has a dark shadow over it. It's not fair that he has to keep paying for the death of his mother.

* * *

Tanya and I decide we should inform Nonna personally since she is the matriarch of the family. When I mention the date, she goes quiet, and I get ready for a warning that we're making a mistake.

"I know the significance of the day directly after, and I mean no disrespect to your daughter." I glance at Tanya for support. This is harder than I thought it would be.

" _I don't choose to remember my daughter by the day she died."_

A welcome feeling of relief washes over me. "Edward hasn't celebrated his birthday in twelve years."

She sucks in a sharp breath. _"I know, and Esmeralda would have hated that."_

"I hope one day we can celebrate Edward's birthday and still honor her."

" _Yes, you can remember her on other days, but be careful. Edward has a strong exterior, but he holds guilt inside a soft heart."_

She does know her grandson, more than I realized. "I promise to take care of his heart."

" _Si, si. I believe you will, Bella."_ When there's more silence, I wait. " _So... a wedding. I will arrange the mass with the priest. What about your dress? I know people in Milano who can make anything."_

Tanya and I look at each other, unprepared for this. "How would I try it on?"

I hear her snort. _"You come here, of course… an excuse for me to see you and Edward. A few days before the wedding, you have a final fitting."_

Tanya's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. I've told her about Edward's grandmother but this is the first time she's witnessed Nonna maneuvering to get what she wants. I do respect her expertise, but my wedding dress is such a personal thing, I'm not sure I want her taking over. "Can I think about it?"

" _Of course. It is only an offer, but you buy nothing from the internet. Promise me. That industry is a disgrace."_

"Okay _."_

Nonna then continues as if we've already hired her as our wedding planner. Thank God Tanya is smart enough to use her phone to record the conversation because we're getting names of hotels and a myriad of dishes expected at the reception. She even has a preferred catering company in a town nearby. Her speech is so rapid, and she injects so many Italian words, we may need to have this translated.

We thank her and end the call, and we both laugh when Tanya asks, "Did she just say ten courses?"

The next call is to Alice.

" _Hi,"_ she answers, knowing it's me.

"Alice, you know Edward and I are having a wedding."

" _Uh huh."_

Great. At least Carlisle already told her. "We want you to be a bridesmaid."

" _Uh… what would I have to do?"_

I guess it is an "Alice" kind of response. A straight "yes" would be too easy.

"Nothing much really. We get you a beautiful dress and flowers, and you walk down the aisle with us. We all stay together at the front of the church during the mass and then go as a group to have our photos taken."

" _No… no, I don't want to."_

Great. I decide there's no point trying to persuade her right now. Carlisle will know if there's a way to get her to agree. "Okay. If you change your mind, will you let me know?"

" _All right."_

If Alice does turn me down, Tanya will be my only attendant. Ang originally agreed, but her final exams coincide with the week of the wedding. With an exam on the Friday and a performance on Monday night, she will barely have time to attend. Of course I understand—I was like a hermit preparing for my finals, but I will miss having her by my side.

* * *

Mom and I start talking about the pros and cons of having the dress made in Italy. Following Nonna's warning, we've been reading horror stories and seeing pictures of what people ordered online as opposed to what they received. There may be reputable companies out there, but I wouldn't take a chance on _my_ wedding dress.

Taking my photos to a couple of bridal stores in London, one quotes me three thousand pounds to make it. Mom says I should take Nonna's offer and admits it's probably time I introduced her to Edward's grandmother. Then she asks, "Where would we stay in Stresa? Are there good hotels?"

It's the first real sign of a breakthrough. Having already booked a range of accommodations in Stresa, I'm ready with links for her to choose whatever she likes. The image of Mom smiling proudly as Dad walks me down the aisle in the real church finally comes into focus.

* * *

I wake up and grab my phone to silence the sound of notifications. Checking the blog, I find the world has turned ugly again. Two bombs have gone off at Brussels Airport, killing people—some of them blown apart. It's unclear how many are injured, but the words "terrorist attack" make me pull the covers over my head and pray this is a bad dream.

Edward relates more horror when he reads the news out loud. Another bomb has exploded at the airport without harming anyone, but a suicide bomber on a train in the Brussels metro has killed and injured more. They're already estimating the number of injured will be in the hundreds.

I don't know Brussels, so I cannot visualize like I did with Paris, but the comments appearing on the blog are full of the same anger and fear. It's the middle of the night in Seattle, so I can't call Dad to verify what's happening.

A photo from airport security cameras shows three suspects pushing airport carts, one a known criminal. His brother, identified as the bomber on the train, has recently been connected to the attack on Paris. One of them is on the run, having left the unstable bomb at the airport ready to blow. The "Islamic State" quickly claims responsibility.

Now there's a terrible racist war of words taking over the blog. I want to scream out for everyone to calm down, but it's hard not to wade in and give my opinion. The word "Islam" means surrender, derived from a word that means peace, and the Muslim community as a whole cannot be blamed for these atrocities.

I hate the injustice, and we don't even know any Muslims. They don't come into the pub, and they never will because they don't touch alcohol. In fact, pubs in London are closing down, made over into meeting places as new ethnic communities emerge. It's a matter of supply and demand—not bad, just different.

An argument erupts about the disproportionate publicity given to the recent terrorist attack in Ankara where there were a similar number of victims. The Turkish story _was_ on the news briefly but quickly disappeared like so many other reports of civil wars everywhere.

This Brussels attack, like what happened in Paris, is portrayed here as the end of the world.

The worst part is accepting that Paris was not an isolated incident, but another shot aimed at the coalition of countries standing against the Islamic State.

Dad sends a text. _"Don't call your mother for a few days."_

Mom sends her own. _"Come home, please come home."_

I'm devastated, replying the only way I'm able. "I can't."

Edward is wonderful, so wonderful, I know he's my soulmate. He lifts me into his lap, straddling him, but it's the most non-sexual thing we'll ever do. The intimacy that comes from his innate understanding helps me release my despair in quiet tears.

* * *

Charlotte calls within a few hours of my sending her my column. _"I'm sorry, we cannot publish this. It's not suitable."_

"It's the same as the column I wrote on Paris."

" _No, with Paris, you were a recent tourist, grieving for the city you loved."_

"I've never been to Belgium."

" _Bella, Zipline is a travel magazine. What you've submitted is the same story appearing in every newspaper in London."_ I don't have an answer. They've never rejected my work before. _"Maggie has agreed you don't have to post a column this week. Try and take it easy."_

"Okay." Her words crush me to the point of having no come back. It's like they've been discussing me and my column and come to the conclusion I need a break. Maybe they've written me off as a first year cadet who can't handle the big issues, but I cannot miss a column. I refuse.

Thinking about the magazine's philosophy of reporting the highs and lows of the current travel experience, I'm doodling the words "terrorist" and "travel". The connection between these two words is always on my mind lately. Except for her text that begged me to come home, Mom hasn't contacted me during the last week, and I suspect it's only a matter of time before one of them calls to say they won't be able to come to the wedding.

For those traveling, or about to travel, something like Brussels or Paris has to have an impact, and that's what's happening on the ground right now. After careful consideration, I post three very simple questions on the blog:

"Will you go home because of the terrorist attacks?"

"Are you canceling or postponing your travel plans for another time?"

"Can you find a safer destination to keep going?"

The response is varied, but very few say they are cancelling or going home. A couple is on their way home and regretting the decision already. Those who have already left vow to never come back. Only nine days after the bombs, people are actually heading to Brussels like ghouls, wanting to see it for themselves. As far as finding a safer destination, many scoff at the idea, bringing up examples like the uncertainty of traveling anywhere in Africa, and the slew of mass shootings in the States. Others say natural disasters occurring on every continent are more terrifying than bombs and shootings.

One person makes a statement I will quote in the column. _"I've waited a long time for this holiday. If I give it up because I fear terrorists, they win."_

Reading the comments gives me objectivity, and instead of the weary and bleak column my boss rejected, this one even has humor while revealing current trends.

Zipline posts the column with very little editing.

Mom doesn't read the blog anymore. She's not a fan of the profanity people use in their everyday speech, and she's not particularly interested in how I turn it into the column. However, she always _does_ read my column, so I'm disappointed by her silence.

Edward says he's worried about me. "You know she will come to the wedding."

"I don't know that at all."

"Will our day really be ruined if they don't come?" Shrugging, I can't answer with any certainty how I'll feel on the day. "She will be there, Bella."

"More power of positive thinking?"

He rarely glares at me, but today his eyes could turn me to stone. "Make a decision and stick to it because I'm not dickin' my family around. We've already said June 19th, and we _will_ go ahead with or without your parents. If you think you'll be miserable, then let's cancel now."

"And do what?"

"Jesus, I don't want to fight about our wedding. I have to go back to work."

I understand his ultimatum because I haven't been myself for a while, avoiding wedding discussions, when we _have_ made a commitment to Carlisle and Joey. It's supposed to be our day, our time, and I'm allowing my mother to spoil it. Yes, I'll be disappointed if they don't come, bitterly disappointed, but I can't let their absence ruin everything.

This is not such a complicated wedding really. We don't have to worry about the legality of the marriage, nor do we have to go through the process of choosing a venue. I've booked more than enough accommodations that I can cancel at any time. I start a list:

Wedding apparel  
Flowers  
Gift for Tanya  
Gift for Alice ?  
Food for reception  
Wedding cake  
Photographer  
Invitations  
Honeymoon

When I look at it, there _is_ still a lot to do.

Nonna is eager to help, and I am going to accept her offer. She has good taste, and she won't waste my money. Mom can still be involved from afar like she was before, without any pressure, and if they _do_ come to the wedding, it will be the best bonus ever.

With a new attitude, I email the "save the date" to my family and friends in the States with a great photo of Edward and me in front of a backdrop of Lake Maggiore.

Now I have to apologize to my husband.

* * *

"I liked that apology. This might be my new favorite position." Edward says as he squeezes my ass.

"It does have a lot going for it." I only have to adjust my hips slightly for his eyebrows to register new interest.

"Yeah, I like that you're sort of on top, fucking me while I can fuck you." He rocks into me and pushes in deep. We're still joined after last time, and he's already hard again. "Yep, definitely a favorite."

He slides his hands up my back, and his eyes blaze a trail down my neck and over my breasts. "The tits up front make this a winner for me."

His tongue circles my nipple, and I get my hands into his glorious hair. He moans and slips his fingers between my legs. I can't help moaning myself because the man's technique is flawless.

He looks up with intense green eyes, the last thing I see before mine flutter closed. My hips can't help reacting when he touches me down there. He knows I come fast when he moves inside me at the same time, especially when his teeth are grazing my neck.

Sucking in a sudden breath of air, he purrs in my ear, "I love the way you squeeze me."

"It's your... reward for pleasuring me." He devours my lips with a kiss, and the sexiest sound rumbles in his chest. The vibrations penetrate my body, setting off a chain reaction that has me screaming down his throat as I come undone.

* * *

The wedding party is on EasyJet this morning—Gatwick to Malpensa—and we have a lot to achieve in just two days. For the first time, we've left Eric in charge of the pub. Our staff have been incredibly understanding, knowing we can't all go to Italy for the wedding. Eric and Laurent will work, and so will Alistair and Lauren. We're going to make it up to them when we return from our honeymoon. Edward is already talking about the Foyer at Claridge's, and he'll get no argument from me. I've seen the menu.

We see Nonna waving, looking primed to take us through weddings, Italian style. We didn't expect to see Alice by her side, nor did anyone tell us how much she's grown. No longer a squirt, she's becoming a woman fast.

With a lot of cheek kissing, we introduce Tanya and Emmett, and Edward looks at his sister.

"Day off?" he asks, with a disapproving eyebrow. Alice smirks and nods.

Our familiar driver is waiting alongside an immaculate minivan. He even remembers our names.

"I spoke to Renee again this week," Nonna calls from the front seat of the van. "She sounded quite positive."

"About what?" I ask as my heart skips a beat.

"About your dress and the changes we talked about."

"Oh... great," I respond, disappointed. I've taken Nonna's advice not to ask Mom outright if she is coming to the wedding and to just move forward positively. Mom's attitude has certainly improved, but she hasn't mentioned the hotels I offered her. It's still only April, but it would be nice to prepare myself mentally if they're not going to show. Edward squeezes my hand and bumps my shoulder with his, making me smile. He's still confident like his grandmother. I really hope their ever-positive attitude works like it did before.

The first stop is a fashion house on the north side of Milan where we meet Carmen, the woman making my dress. Tanya is hoping to find a bridesmaid's dress today, too.

Nonna leaves us to browse while she takes the boys upstairs to choose a tux. After seeing the photo of my dress, she proclaimed there was only one choice for the men—black tuxedos. I've never seen Edward in a suit, but knowing Nonna, she'll have them looking gorgeous in no time.

"See anything you like?" I ask Tanya, who's been hovering around the same rack for a while.

"Silk jersey," Carmen comments as she passes. I follow as she lays down my creation on a large table and closes the door behind her. While it's nowhere near a finished dress, I want to squeal and hold it in my arms.

Instead, I try not to grin like an idiot as I strip down and put on my corset. Finding the appropriate undergarment for this dress has been challenging. It had to be strapless with a deep plunging back, and everyone suggested a body suit until I found this. It's smooth, has great support, and I can go to the bathroom without needing assistance. I think.

Carmen helps me step into the dress, reminding me it's full of pins. Circling me, she takes her time unpinning and adjusting until it stays up on its own without feeling tight. Then an assistant arrives to help pin the tulle underskirt in place. When the outer layer of the dress goes over my head, I'm surprised at how light it is. The lace in the photo looked heavy and thick. This new lace is similar, but it feels like it weighs nothing.

I can't stop looking at myself in the mirror and touching the fabric. Carmen adjusts and re-pins, and when she's satisfied, she helps me to stand on a platform several steps up.

Tanya smiles as she opens the door, taking in the detail of the dress. "Oh, Bella, you are going to be the most stunning bride." She has a dress over her arm and is followed by Alice who grins at me.

"Will you take some photos for Mom?" I ask, feeling emotional standing up here. "What have you found, Tanya?"

"I adore this blue color. I'm going to try it on."

"Azzura," Carmen announces and points toward the changing rooms. "These are your wedding shoes?" I nod. Nonna reminded me twice to bring the shoes so they could set the length today, telling me the hem must appear to "float".

The lace is much longer than it will be, overlaying the tulle that will fan out over the top of my thighs. Carmen is now marking where she'll cut into the lace to create a seamless transition between the fitted body and the pieces she's sewing onto the tulle. It's clever and efficient, making the whole dress appear to be a masterpiece of applique. Alice is fascinated, taking photos and studying how they decide where they will cut.

Tanya comes out and asks, "What do you think?" Alice's gasp echoes around the big room. The fabric hangs perfectly, and Tanya's fair hair makes the blue appear more vivid. "Look at this!" She unties the back and creates a different look using the long, wide straps that go over the bust and shoulders.

"Multi-wrap," Carmen clarifies. "It's always very popular."

"That looks fantastic," I declare. Trust Tanya to go for something amazing straight away.

When I see Alice becoming engrossed in the tying process, I take a chance and approach her again. "It's such a shame you don't want to be a bridesmaid, Alice. That dress would look great on you, too." She only glances at me, playing with the soft fabric and shaking her head. I can see she's in turmoil. "It's still okay to change your mind."

"Valentina says a man will have to be my partner at the wedding."

Tanya looks at me, and now I'm sorry I didn't press Alice for the reason why she said no.

"I don't think that's true," Tanya responds. "I've been to a wedding where there were six bridesmaids and two groomsmen."

Alice rocks from her heels to her toes, wavering over her decision.

"Oh, Bella, the dress," Nonna exclaims as she comes through the door. "Carmen, la Stupenda."

"Grazie," Carmen replies as she admires her creation.

Smiling, Nonna turns her eyes to Tanya. "Is this what you have chosen?"

"Um, yes," She can sense Nonna's disapproval.

"A single color, Tanya, and you are an artist. Would you consider a printed fabric?"

"I didn't see any like that," Tanya responds hesitantly.

"Come with me."

The three of them leave, and Carmen smirks at her assistant as if they've seen Nonna in action like this before.

They return excitedly ten minutes later with dresses in a geometric abstract material - one azzura with hints of teal green and the other lemon and lime green.

"The artist paints perfect tiles, so the repetition is seamless, very suitable for fabric."

Tanya studies the material up close. "It looks like oils. She uses different blends of thinners to soften the colors."

"Yes. The original is magnifico. Try it on."

When the three of them come back out, everyone is smiling, and Alice is wearing the lemon version. The top section of each dress is different, interesting, printed in the same tile, but on a much smaller scale. Where the two wrap around each other, it looks amazing.

Alice is obviously thrilled, going straight to the mirror in front of me. "I want to be a bridesmaid now."

Everyone looks at me, and I nod. I couldn't be happier with the news or what they've chosen to wear.

Nonna's interest is suddenly taken with me, and her hand covers her mouth. While they've been fussing over bridesmaid's dresses, Carmen and her assistant have been hard at work. The lace is now sectioned and blended with pieces pinned on the tulle, at the shoulders, and around the edges of the back. The tulle fans out beautifully and does appear to "float".

In this mirror, I've become the princess from my dreams. I spin from side to side, and if I wasn't standing on a podium, I would be twirling. The dress is everything I wanted, and now it's light and comfortable. It's a wonderful feeling, seeing pieces of my wedding fall into place, and as Tanya puts her arm around Alice, it's obvious who should partner my sister-in-law.

My husband will have to agree, but Nonna says they can put another suit aside for someone nearly six feet tall in one size smaller than Edward's. Any adjustments can be quickly done when the boys pick up their suits before the wedding.

She's already keeping one for the father of the bride anyway.

* * *

Our last stop is Lesa, where Emmett and Tanya get their first close-up look at the lake. I love watching their faces as they get out of the van. It is pretty here, and if I hadn't seen Stresa, I would be very impressed. Just six miles south of Stresa, we're visiting Nonna's preferred pasticceria to try their desserts.

After all the food we've just tasted at the caterers: canapes, antipasto, pasta with lobster and cream wine sauce, then fish, veal and chicken main courses, vegetable sides, and salads, I'm amazed I'm able to fit in anything else. It only takes a small mouthful of their tiramisu for me to say yes, and then I contemplate the decadent concoction they call wedding cake. We only get one day to do this, so I take a fork and break through the layers, then moan as the filo pastry melts in my mouth. The custard cream is perfectly sweet, and the berries are fresh and sharp.

"How do I pronounce this again?" I ask, already convinced we've found our wedding cake.

"Meeleh Folyeh," Nonna answers. "The assembly of the three layers at the wedding is quite a spectacle."

"How big is this cake going to be?" I'm imagining something akin to one of those gigantic pizzas.

"No, no, there will be several cakes, Bella. He creates the final one in front of the guests."

"It would be hard to cut with more layers," Tanya comments, trying another mouthful.

"Yes, it gets messy," Nonna agrees.

"I'm happy." Edward leans his arm on the back of my chair. "Are we decided? I cannot eat another thing."

I smile at him and nod, knowing we've checked another item off our list. He's eager to see his father now we're not far away.

"Jesus," Emmett exclaims as we come into Stresa and turn left toward Joey's. He's grinning like a child as we pull into the hotel's driveway. The first thing I notice is they've cleared the overgrown garden and terraced the front—a huge job on its own. I can now see the utility space underneath Carlisle told us about. They plan to use it for drying rooms for ski gear and possibly a sauna. Currently, it's a huge working area for the build.

The new deck is enormous and wraps around the sides of the hotel. The metal balustrade has a row of curls near the top, reminding me of our Christmas mannequin. Mary comes out waving, and it's so good seeing her here looking happy. As we walk up, Carlisle calls out to welcome us. "Here they are!" He's at the top of the driveway where several vehicles are parked in what looks like a courtyard. I don't remember that being here before, but it's great if they've managed to get parking up here at the back.

He hugs me, and then Edward, and says, "I've missed you. You both look well." Joey and Mary kiss our cheeks, then she gets into the minibus to pick up Valentina from school.

"Are you going?" Carlisle asks Alice, who quickly jumps in with them.

"Who's hungry?" Siobhan asks as we enter. Everyone groans and says they're too full. As we walk down the hallway, Tanya sucks in a loud breath of air. There are bi-fold glass doors across the front now, giving direct access to the deck. This whole living area looks bigger, but I can't work out why.

As I'm looking around, puzzled, Carlisle explains. "It's the kitchen, Bella. We moved it."

"Is it finished?" Edward asks.

Carlisle pushes through two swinging doors, and we're in a small but efficient kitchen with appliances similar to those in Edward's pub. A coffee station is at the left, next to a couple of glass-fronted fridges. On the far wall, there's working space on both sides of a double stove/oven and a serving bench in the middle. To the right is the sink and a window to the next property, another big house and terrace set high up on the block like this one. It's far enough away, though. The blocks of land up here are actually massive.

Siobhan starts the coffee while Carlisle opens the door to the exterior. "This is the reason we moved the kitchen here." I'm following blindly as we walk up the path to the new courtyard, assuming the reason is ease of deliveries. Carlisle stops, turns to his right, and opens his arms. "Voila." My mouth gapes open for a second as I realize how far this courtyard extends. The view from here is the lake and the shore of Verbania—with nothing in front.

"Amazing," Tanya exclaims, and Emmett whistles his approval.

"Is this where we're holding the reception?" Edward asks.

"That's the plan."

This is not how I pictured our wedding reception, but there's something grand about this outdoor space and the view. Two big trees will provide shade once they get all their leaves. I'm imagining them strung with lights and long tables holding fragrant flowers and glowing candles.

"We didn't do this specifically for the wedding. Once we realized what we could have up here, we excavated and moved the soil from the back to the front. When the stonework is completed, it will give us a lovely area to serve meals in the heat of summer, and the guests get somewhere to sit on the grass out front. Are you... happy, Bella?"

Listening, but lost in a dream, I finally acknowledge him. "Yes, it's wonderful. Can we hang lights in the trees?"

"Of course."

"I feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Thank you so much."

"Oh, you are very welcome."

Carlisle points out the four rooms across the back, now with external access to the courtyard. Then he takes us back in, grabbing two keys and asking us to follow him out to the deck. The front rooms now have entrances to the side. He opens the room for us, then beckons Tanya and Emmett to follow him.

Our room has been freshly painted, and the windows look new. The smell of fresh timber is wonderful. The bathroom is now completely changed with large rectangular tiles—not a crack or chip in sight.

Suddenly my husband's arms are around me, and he's kissing my neck. "What's your dress like?" he asks, running his nose along my jaw.

"It's a red leather mini with long black boots."

He chuckles. "Well, that explains a lot. Nonna said she matched us perfectly."

"I wanted to ask you… about Alice. She said no before because she didn't want to be paired up with a man she didn't know."

He leans his chin on my shoulder and looks at my reflection in the mirror. "So why has she changed her mind?"

"Tanya told her the numbers don't have to be even."

"Don't they?"

"I don't know but… let's ask Jasper? You know she would be comfortable with him."

He thinks about it before answering. "I guess. Yeah, sure. What about his suit?"

"Nonna said she will sort that out."

"Of course she did."

We're seeing the florist and photographer tomorrow, and while we're here, Carlisle is taking advantage of Emmett's offer to help with the hotel's music and television system. The boys are up in the roof running wires while I'm writing wedding invitations. I need Nonna's help with the spellings of the names and addresses. She's going to post them for me.

Nonna explains the tradition of the bride and groom ( _sposi_ ) giving gifts ( _bomboniere)_ to each of their guests. Five sugar-coated almonds _(confetti)_ represent happiness, longevity, wealth, children, and health. Nonna has catalogues showing pictures of boxes, pouches and elaborate ribbon flowers to contain them. We can choose an accompanying gift, no more than a trinket, but something that will last. In keeping with Edward's profession, Tanya suggests glasses, but Nonna says not to choose something that can break easily, so Tanya keeps turning the pages.

I have to concentrate on the Italian invitations. They go on and on, full of Giuseppes and Esmeraldas, and many names I've never seen before. I don't know who I'm inviting, and my wrist locks up as the pile of invitations grows into something scary.

Carlisle walks past and stops to stare at what we're doing. "That's a lot of envelopes, Goia. Is this what we discussed? You said forty family."

"Si, but fam-i-lee is plural. Fam-i-ya is singular."

"How many people are you inviting?"

"They won't all say yes, Carlisle."

"Goia... how many?"

Mary walks in with the two girls, and it's obvious they sense the tension. Mary heads for the kitchen with a bag of groceries. The two girls back away and disappear.

Nonna is running down her list, writing numbers against names. "A hundred and thirty."

Carlisle's eyes bulge and his fingers go into his hair. "How many do you have, Bella?"

"Twelve are coming from London, including us. I'm inviting twenty from America, but it's unlikely they'll come. None of them responded to the 'save the date.'" I'm still seething about the email from a friend from college, Jessica Stanley, who won't be attending. She asked how I can live with myself after blocking my best friend, Rosalie, as soon I got engaged. "Probably just Mom and Dad," I say with hope in my heart.

"Do you have our names on the list?" Nonna and I both shake our heads and Carlisle sighs as if he's doing a mental tally. "Well, nobody has asked me, and I would like to invite six, just six people, and that takes us to a hundred and sixty. Joey!"

When Joey appears, Carlisle snatches Nonna's list and asks him if all these people need to be invited. Nonna scoffs, and Joey puts up his hands. He won't touch it and says he'll have nothing to do with cutting names from the list. Carlisle throws it down on the table and glares at Nonna.

"You said everyone has to sit and be served."

"Yes, Carlisle, that is correct."

"Then look around you, Goia. Where are we going to seat a hundred and sixty people? You're cutting this list down or coming up with another plan."

 _ **Thanks for reading xo**_


	29. Chapter 29

**_You all amaze me with your patience and your reviews._**

 ** _Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley have somehow found time for me in their very busy real lives. Generous, good people I'm tellin' ya._**

 ** _My love to you xxx_**

* * *

 **Chapter 29**

The standoff between Carlisle and Nonna escalates into an argument. She hurls angry words at him in Italian, and he'll only respond in English. They move past the reason we're all out here—to reassess the courtyard's dimensions. It's like a fight that's been brewing for a while.

The collective conclusion is that we cannot hold a sit-down wedding here. Nonna maintains she can't budge on the numbers, stating she'll pay for an alternate venue rather than insult the family. Edward scoffs at her, saying she's insulting him by offering. I keep out of it because I don't want anyone knowing how disappointed I am, adding more pressure to the situation.

Nonna wants to go home, and Joey says he'll drive her. She claims she needs a walk to clear her head. When Edward offers to walk with her, she smiles, and they leave together quietly. I watch from the deck when she takes his arm as they descend the stairs into town.

Tanya comes out and hugs me. "We'll find somewhere else."

The whole day had been too perfect really—from our dresses and Alice's acceptance, to the food and the cake. Something _had_ to go wrong. I should have known before this how many people Nonna was inviting, so I have to take part of the blame. When everyone cools down, maybe Nonna and I can have a rational discussion about who all these people are and if Edward and I will ever see them again. Just the thought of writing out another set of invitations makes the pain in my wrist return.

Pushing the negative thoughts back, I smile and reply, "Yeah, maybe we will, and I do have some good news. We're going to ask Jasper to be Alice's partner."

Tanya's grin is so big, I know it shouldn't matter where we hold the wedding. Sharing our celebration with incredible friends like her is what's important.

Edward texts me saying he won't be back for dinner. Nonna is apparently calling half the town. He walks in at nine o'clock and announces we have an appointment in the morning to view another venue.

"That was quick," I respond, in awe of how the woman operates.

"Oh, she's on a mission." He raises his eyebrows as he looks at Carlisle.

* * *

Joey and Mary take the girls to school, and we agree to meet at an address in Baveno, two miles north of Stresa. There's no parking here on the main road, not ideal if a hundred and sixty are coming. We leave the van at the town's marina and walk back in single file. I'm trying to be positive, but the cars whizzing past scare me a little. I can't see anything as we approach except a jungle of palms and the agent, waiting with a smile. He speaks to Nonna in Italian as he welcomes us through a door.

The first thing I notice is the large expanse of lawn leading to a classic stone balustrade and breathtaking view of the lake. Isola Pescatori is not far, and a ferry has just left, gliding past as it heads north. The garden is in full bloom with banks of azaleas in pink, orange, and white, and huge trees overhang the area. I can easily imagine an afternoon here, and I start taking photos.

We walk up to the water's edge, and Edward and I look at each other when we see the stone terrace with steps going down to a private beach. I capture it all, including the boathouse and a wall out in the water that creates a small marina. Trying to keep my excitement contained, Edward must know how I'm reacting from the number of clicks of the camera. This could be a great alternative.

The agent takes us around to the front door and into a real foyer with black and white harlequin tiles. Silver and gray striped wallpaper is calming as we go through. The stairs are a wonderful puzzle of brown floor tiles and brass handrails.

A formal sitting room on the left has dark timber ceilings and an oversized fireplace. Its blue wallpaper looks very Italian, with chalices and flowers embossed in white. Mismatched upholstered chairs fit perfectly with the small grand piano standing before a view of Baveno and the mountains behind.

We only poke our heads into the bathroom before the man ushers us into the long living room, dominated by a modern fireplace, a big television, and leather couches. It leads to a dining area and informal space that stretches across the back of the house. Glass doors open onto a patio with the most incredible view.

Emmett and Tanya are already out here, and he's standing behind her, hugging her shoulders. I snap a picture of them and then one of Mary and Siobhan, waving to us from the beach below. Carlisle and Joey are out on the wall in the water.

"What do you reckon a joint like this is worth, Ed?" Emmett asks.

Edward wraps his arms around me and says softly, "I have no idea. Millions."

"You have to do this." Tanya urges. "And I want to pay for it."

"What?" He reacts, incredulous. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm serious. I've made a lot of money off you in the last year. I came to London selling my work for a thousand and now I'm getting five times that much. You've given me a gallery, promotion, and word of mouth. You know that guy who bought the Christmas painting? He's just commissioned me to do a new one."

"I'd have to put up something on the walls, Tanya, so I think you've saved me money."

She rolls her eyes. "Please. You two mean a lot to me, and I have to give you a wedding gift anyway. I want to do this."

Edward looks at the water for a while before he replies. "You can contribute." She squeals and smothers us in one of her wonderful group hugs.

When we hear Nonna talking with the agent, we follow the sound inside because they seem to be arguing.

They're in a large eat-in kitchen, built in a timeless style of granite bench tops, porcelain under sink, and old-fashioned faucets, but there's a modern freestanding oven, dishwasher, and fridge.

"Go upstairs!" she calls out when she notices us peeking in.

"Upstairs?" I question, but Edward shrugs, and we do as she says.

There are four bedrooms up here—two doubles at the front with their own bathrooms and a shared patio. I take a video of the one-eighty degree view from Baveno to Isola Bella. Another two bedrooms and a bathroom are at the back. They are all nicely decorated with peaceful wallpaper and elegant timber furniture. The bathrooms are not new like Joey's, but I certainly can't fault them.

One floor up is a twin bedroom, bathroom, and living area built into the roof space.

"Seen enough?" Edward asks, taking my hand. "Let's go and have another look at that lawn."

Out here, there is plenty of room, but I'm still apprehensive about that dangerous road. "How would we get everyone up here from the church?"

"Well, Joey has drivers, but there are a lot of boats in the family. I'm thinking that's why she chose this."

"Ah," I reply and break into a smile. This villa just became perfect.

"You saw upstairs?" Nonna asks, coming out to join us.

"Yeah, it was great," Edward answers. "Why?"

With a huff, she says, "This is a vacation property, and they only take week-long bookings. The best I can do is get off season price."

"Which is?" Edward asks.

She grimaces and says, "Five thousand euros."

He doesn't seem fazed in the slightest. "I'm saving more than that doing the booze myself, and we have to stay somewhere."

Tanya and I both lose it at the same time. We grab each other and dance around the lawn like children, singing and laughing. When we look back, our men are standing with their arms folded across their chests, trying to look like grown-ups. I take a picture just as Emmett bumps Edward, almost toppling him over. When my husband reaches out for me, I run and jump into his arms to kiss him.

"We'll go halves?" Tanya asks as she cuddles up to Emmett.

"We'll see," Edward answers, a smile on his face.

We meet the photographer and agree that Isola Bella is the logical place for our formal photos. That way, we'll have variety: on the boat from Stresa, at the dramatic Teatro Massimo, the quieter side of the island we both loved, and the trip to Baveno. Neither of us is interested in posing inside the Borromeo palace.

Edward doesn't come to the florist. The tradition these days is for the groom to pay, not to pick the flowers himself. I tell her I've always wanted a highly-scented bouquet, and she goes to work, pulling together a piece of floral art with cream roses and white freesias, the unopened buds giving us the lime color we want. All the blue flowers have purple hues, adding a new color to the mix, so she uses blue-green eucalyptus foliage for that accent. It works well for the boutonnieres too. I can tell Tanya, the perfectionist, is not entirely happy, but I think it looks great, embodying the colors in a way that won't clash with the dresses.

When the florist finds out we're holding the reception at the villa at Baveno, she brings out these sweet little glass vases. We can use them on the tables to hold tea candles as well as posies of flowers. After the wedding, we can give the flowers away or bring them inside to enjoy the fragrance. She'll even refund a deposit on the vases we return.

They don't decorate the pews in the parish church of Santi Ambrogio and Theodolos. She has photos of flowers on stands inside the entry and around the circular stone floor of the altar, saying we're expected to leave three of the biggest arrangements behind. The price she quotes includes dressing the church and the reception, all deliveries and transfers. When she asks if we have any questions, I really can't think of one. Once again, Nonna has led us to someone who fills me with confidence.

Tanya and I take a walk along the water, satisfied we completed everything on our list.

"Have you done anything about the honeymoon yet?" she asks, watching a boat cruise past.

"I have. I've booked a place on an island in Greece, called Donoussa. Rosalie and I were there just after Edward made contact with me again, and I was desperate to see him. Donoussa is the kind of place you should go with someone you love… so taking him back as my husband will be… incredible. I just want us to be on our own for a while, you know? I want to cook and sleep in and swim in the ocean together. The water there is so clear, and the beach is... clothes optional."

She laughs. "Oh, my God. He'll love that."

He _will_ love it. It will feel like coming back to where we started, and I smile as I remember him on the island. "I was going to spend more time on Santorini first, but having a whole week here is better. If Mom and Dad do come… well…" I look at the sky, and tears fill my eyes.

Tanya slides her arm through mine. "Hey. Send them the photos you took today. How can they say no? This is going to be awesome, Bella."

I nod and take a final look at the lake before we go back to leave for the airport. Things have changed in the last twenty-four hours, and they say everything is connected. All I can do is hope change is happening in Seattle, too.

* * *

My wedding gift to my husband is a trip to Northern Ireland with tickets to see Van Morrison. It's going to be an intimate evening—dinner and a concert for a maximum of 350 people, held at a resort on the east coast. Edward will die when he finds out.

For his birthday gift, the idea comes to me in the strangest way. I'm in a jeweler's shop in Piccadilly, browsing for inspiration, when I see an antique clock on the wall, and I can't stop staring at the twelve Roman numerals on its face.

They represent a significant period of time—half of Edward's life—twelve years he's lived without celebrating his birthday. Every number on the clock face is a day drained of happiness by a terrible tragedy.

One marks the year he turns thirteen. The one-year anniversary is a day surely overtaken by grief.

Two and three could be spent reflecting. Money is tight, so they're not going to Italy in July.

Four is turning sixteen and might be the birthday they try to celebrate. Alice seems to remember that one, and she would have been old enough then.

Five is the last time he has a birthday before adulthood. College isn't an option for Edward, not if they have to sell the family home. He's going to fix their financial situation.

Six is leaving home before his eighteenth birthday, right after his exams.

Seven to ten—who knows what he does on those days. He's not with his family who are thousands of miles away.

Eleven is twenty-three, and I already know it's a Friday because I looked it up. He's on the island, so it's likely he's working Island Night.

Twelve is last year when he turns twenty-four and lets the birthday pass in silence. It's his sister who tells me I've missed it.

I have to leave the store in tears.

When I come home, I'm still affected, drawing the circle and its twelve numbers in a notebook. Doodling round and round, I see that when Edward turns twenty-five in June. He's already reached the one on the dial again, almost a year into a new phase of his life where he should be able to celebrate his birthday without dishonoring his mother's memory. It just feels like he's done his time.

I look at watches on the internet. Edward has never worn one, never mentioned owning one before, but a watch on his wrist could remind him to think of his mother whenever and however he wants. When it comes time for his birthday, he could celebrate his day without guilt.

How I plan to explain this strange notion is anyone's guess, and I start to wonder if this is about a gift for Edward or about me wanting to fix something I perceive as broken. It's not like I expect him to pour his heart out about those twelve birthdays. I've accepted he doesn't talk about it. He does talk fondly about other things that happened in his life, so I'm not worried about him.

Then I find a watch that's perfect and decide there's no need for me to explain why I bought it. It's a Swiss brand I've never heard of before—Jaeger LeCoultre. The latest model, the "ultra thin" sells for thousands of pounds in the stores, but I get a great deal on last year's model in stainless steel with a black leather band. The white face is fresh, simple and elegant, with the date and the phase of the moon on the bottom.

When I give him the watch, the moon will be a full circle, sitting right in the middle of the dial.

* * *

It's a wonderful surprise when Mom's cousin calls to say they'll be coming to the wedding. They're touring Italy until the week prior, and they want the full deal, taking one of the rooms I reserved at the Hotel Astoria in Stresa. Then her brother sends me an email saying he and his wife are joining them. His son and girlfriend are coming too, starting their trip with the wedding, then backpacking over to Paris to pick up a Contiki tour.

I'm honestly astounded there's a family reunion going on in a year when so many are hesitant to travel, but I'll take it. This would be a perfect opportunity for my parents to come over with family, even if they go no further than Italy.

"Should I ask her if one of them can bring my veil?" I ask Nonna.

" _Hmm, that would be a direct question."_ Nonna knows about the veil and has offered to supply one if Mom doesn't come through, but she says she won't have to. _"Play to your mother's strengths, Bella. Let her contribute in her own way."_

"I don't understand, Nonna. If she thinks she's involved from afar, where's the incentive to come to Italy?"

" _Just trust me."_

Mom was definitely excited when I sent her the photos of the villa in Baveno, and it's frustrating when it really feels like she _is_ better. Dad still tells me he's working on her and to be patient, but I'm getting to the stage where I'm sick of counting to ten whenever I talk to them.

I need Mom's help at the moment. I want to buy jewelry for my bridesmaids, and she's the expert on the subject. After explaining their dresses in detail, she says she'll get back to me. A few days later, she wants to know what _I'm_ planning to wear as jewelry.

"Because the dress is so intricate, I'm going with pearl earrings and a three rope pearl bracelet. I can get them at a store in Piccadilly, and they're not that expensive."

" _Are you worried about cost?"_

"No, not really."

" _Then why not get something long-lasting?"_

"Mom… I wouldn't know what to buy without you." The words are out of my mouth before I realize I've probably said the wrong thing.

After a long and thoughtful hum, she says, _"I'll speak to you in a few days."_

She leaves me hanging by ending the call. I suspect that hum means she doesn't approve of my choice of jewelry, but she won't say so.

When a whole week goes by, I can't wait any longer. I'm not one of those people who can wing it at the last minute, and we're leaving in three weeks for the wedding. I'm over it, wishing I'd never involved her in this most important thing.

It's not fair when I've obediently followed all the advice from my father and from people who don't even know my mother. It hasn't worked. I've been kidding myself, clinging to the hope she's coming. I pick up my phone, knowing that pussy-footing around her is not going to make a scrap of difference. She has to address whatever problems she has. I just wish she'd done it months ago.

"Mom, you haven't called me back. I need to know what's happening with the jewelry."

" _Oh, heavens, I'm so sorry. I'll send you a photo now."_ I just sigh at the way she dismisses me when I know she can't be that busy.

The image she sends is labelled "Crystal Sahara," and I'm ready to take back every ungrateful thought I've had. She has found the most perfect combination in a jewel. The crystals encompass the colors of the two dresses: different blues, yellows, and greens. Two sets of drop earrings and two bracelets are… Jesus… sitting on the counter in the kitchen at home! Why has she purchased them over there! Aaaaargh!

Frantically, I call her, "Mom, you need to send them so they make it in time!"

" _Calm down."_

"Mom!"

" _I'm delivering them myself, along with your veil."_

"Mom?" For a second, my voice is swallowed by shock and emotion. "...you're coming?"

" _It's a long story, Bella, and one too long for this phone conversation. We're leaving for New York tomorrow and meeting my cousins in Rome. Our tour finishes on June 10th, so we'll have plenty of time to reach Stresa before you arrive. I'll have the veil with me and all the jewelry."_

"Mom, you're really coming!"

" _It's my daughter's wedding."_ She's starting to cry. I can hear it in her voice.

"I love you, Mom."

" _And I love you. I can't wait to see you."_

"Oh, Mom." Now I'm bawling. Tears are streaming down my cheeks, but they're tears I welcome. "You said _all_ the jewelry. Does that mean you bought something for me, too?"

" _You're wearing the diamonds you wore when you were married in Seattle. They are my personal wedding gifts to you."_

"Mom… I..."

" _Bella... it will give your father something to buy me next birthday."_

We both break into teary laughter. "Okay," I concede. "Will you please do my hair and makeup on the day?"

" _Of course I will. Now I'm very sorry, but I still have a stack of ironing to finish before your father gets home."_

"Hang on. Did you look at those accommodations I sent you? I'm not sure I can get a room at the Astoria at this late stage… but I still have others."

" _We're fine. We have somewhere to stay. Don't worry about us."_

"Oh… well… you drink plenty of water on the flight, and get up as often as you can to walk around."

" _We're flying business class this time."_ I hear a long exhale like she's not looking forward to it.

"I've never flown business. At least you'll be able to sleep."

" _I hope so,"_ she responds.

"You call me as soon you arrive in Rome, okay?"

" _Yes, yes, okay, but now I really have to go."_

Bolting down the stairs, I'm calling out Edward's name without even registering we're in a place of business. As I bounce on my feet at the end of the bar, he smiles at me as he fills a glass with beer. After some chitchat and a laugh at the end, the customers leave the bar, and he turns to me.

"What is it?"

"They're coming!"

"Who is coming where?"

"Mom and Dad! They're going to New York tomorrow and then Rome, joining a tour, and they're coming to the wedding!" I feel like I'm jumping out of my skin.

He smiles and pulls me to his chest. "Are you really so surprised?"

"I don't know," I answer, fiddling with the buttons of his shirt.

"I knew it. You knew it. Everyone knew they wouldn't be able to stay away, baby." He amazes me. He really was still full of confidence, while I had honestly given up on Mom.

* * *

It's raining in London the day we leave for the wedding, and the weather is supposed to be the same in Stresa. The forecast is for storms on Sunday afternoon, so I'm glad we took the caterer's advice and hired a wedding tent. My ever-positive husband assures me there's no way the weather is going to ruin our day.

As we wait for our flight, the televisions are full of the referendum happening in exactly one week. "Brexit" has dominated the media lately, and I've found the whole thing fascinating. Last week, we watched the two men leading the respective campaigns answer questions from the public. I thought Nigel Farage, lobbying to leave the EU, was more authentic and confident. There was something about Prime Minister David Cameron's eye movements that made me distrust him. Both of them took a battering from the audience.

Ever since then, I've been researching how Britain came to join the EU countries. As well as the mass of information I found on the internet, I drew on the modern history I'd studied in college and what we learned on our bus tour of central Europe, which focused on the Second World War and its aftermath.

Everyone who's come into the pub lately has an opinion. Some say the EU is ready to crumble, that the referendum is a costly and worthless exercise. Others are fearful of the recession that's coming if we choose to leave. It sounds like the vote could go either way.

The response to the questions I post on the blog is minimal and disappointing. Either the type of travelers who contribute are out of touch with British news, or they simply don't care. It has become such an absorbing subject that I'm surprised by the apathy. I'd give anything to be reporting on Brexit and have all the facts at my disposal. Getting a job one day as a political journalist would be incredible.

For now, this current contract is perfect for Edward and me, but it isn't what I set out to do when I left Seattle. A column based on a travel blog was not one of my aspirations. I'm not denigrating it, but it already feels like a stepping stone to somewhere else when the money they pay does not cover the hours I put into it.

"Babe? Are you worried about the weather?" Edward asks, crouching down in front of me. I've been staring at the sky with my mind a million miles away. "We're boarding."

"No. Sorry. I'm just… Let's go." He pulls me up and wraps my arms around his neck. "I'm going to see my parents today. I'm getting my dress, and we're moving into the villa."

He kisses me rather passionately then smiles. "Party time, gorgeous. Two and a half weeks to look forward to."

As we join the line, we link hands. It really is an amazing feeling.

* * *

When I see Mom and Dad waiting at the airport, adrenaline kicks in, and I push past several people to get to them. Mom's arms surround me, squeezing me tight, and Dad shakes Edward's hand, leaning forward to say something in his ear. Mom hugs Edward warmly, and he thanks her for coming. Then my father takes my hands, holding my arms out so he can look me over, then he pulls me into an embrace. They both look refreshed and tanned, smiling as they meet Tanya, Emmett, Liam, and Jasper.

I still haven't heard Mom's "long story" of what happened to bring her to the wedding. We've only had a few brief calls from them in the past few weeks, full of the delights of discovering Italy.

Looking at Nonna, she winks at me and nods. When I challenge her with an eyebrow, her smirk becomes the most triumphant grin, and I know she's one of them—one of the people who've played a part in getting my mother here.

Since the day I found out my parents were staying at Joey's hotel, I've been suspicious of why Mom didn't tell me.

"I didn't know you had Carlisle's new number," I said to Mom when they called from the Cinque Terre, gloating over the view in front of them.

"Yes, we've spoken to Carlisle and Siobhan several times," she replied, as if I should have expected they'd be talking to my father-in-law, but the secrecy implied there was more than just a hotel reservation going on. "Edward gave us his number." So Edward had been talking to them too, and he never mentioned it to me.

This story is going to be fascinating.

We have a twelve-seater minivan today. We're going directly to the fashion house, and we're not leaving until we can take our dresses and suits with us. Joey and Mary's wedding gift is providing drivers whenever and wherever we need them, but we're trying to minimize the trips to Milan. They picked up my family two days ago, and Joey is sending someone to the 10:30 flight tomorrow night to collect Angela, Ben, Charlotte and her fiancé, Peter, and a single Maggie.

While Maggie is not what I'd call a guarded person, she is my boss, so I've never asked about her personal life, assuming she was married. Charlotte was the one who told me not to expect a plus one from Maggie. She said Maggie had always been single, saying no man could tolerate the hours she worked. I find it sad because I really like her. She's been very supportive of me, and while I know she cannot increase my salary, she's found ways for me to claim some of Edward's expenses when I'm working in Europe. She's even sending me to Belfast when we go to see Van Morrison.

"I'll load the bags, boss. You just get in." Jasper has always been in awe of Edward. Ever since Edward asked him to partner Alice at the wedding, Jasper has been a model employee, and Liam couldn't be happier.

"Oh, thanks. Good man." Edward pats Jasper on the back, and I have to smile at the two of them. Edward doesn't take advantage of his apprentice, but he has this way of keeping him at arm's length, like he's teaching him to know his place. He told me he recognizes his teenage self in Jasper, and he'll take a mile if you give him an inch.

The chatter is loud and enthusiastic as our group enters the fashion house. Liam is buying a suit today, and Mom is looking for something as well. She has already bought a couple of dresses in Italy, but she's still on the lookout for the perfect outfit, and Nonna has assured her she will find it here.

I'm up first because my alterations may take the longest, and having Mom here for my fitting is very emotional. In tears as they make the final adjustments, she produces the veil, apologizing for nearly letting me down. All I can say is I love her, and I'm glad she's here now.

The jewelry Mom bought looks fantastic with Tanya's dress, which is already finished after only needing the hem taken up. Tanya is happy, and I think she looks gorgeous. Nonna already has Alice's dress at her place in Stresa.

Mom leaves with Nonna, and when they return, Mom heads straight for the changing room. She comes out in a knee-length lace sheath dress, with a short, three-quarter sleeve jacket in matching colored silk. It's almost impossible to choose between the silver-gray version and the navy.

"You've still got it, Mom," I say as she makes her decision on the navy. She looks effortlessly elegant, as usual.

Edward is already paying the bill when I sneak away to do it myself. We laugh, finding we both had the idea of stopping Nonna from getting in first. Even so, I'm sure they're only charging us cost because it's nowhere near what I was expecting. My dress is just over 500 euros, a fraction of the 3,000 pounds they quoted me in London.

When we walk outside, the men all have shit-eating grins on their faces, and Emmett nudges Jasper, telling him not to say a word. It's a tight squeeze with eight garment bags in the van. Mine, by far the biggest, is on on top of all the others. We drop Nonna off, and she takes Tanya's dress and mine with her. We're going along with her suggestion that we get ready there since it's so close to the church. It also means there'll be no temptation to peek if we keep our dresses at the villa. Even though we've been married for almost a year, some traditions should stand.

The reunion between Liam and Siobhan almost brings tears to my eyes. I forgot how long it's been since he saw his mother. They're both giving us their skills and time on Saturday night, cooking for the rehearsal dinner, and Carlisle is paying. I'm so appreciative of their wonderful generosity.

Carlisle shows us the courtyard first, with its stone retaining walls finished, and I'm grateful we're having the smaller rehearsal dinner here. At least I get to experience what it would have been like.

As we enter the hotel, there's a lovely subtle smell.

"What is that fragrance? Is it pine?" I ask, taking it into my lungs.

"Juniper," Siobhan replies, nodding toward a basket of cuttings. "It keeps the place smelling fresh."

Mary hands me a business card, showing a drawing of a sprig with berries and the address of the hotel. It finally has a name, "Albergo Ginepro." In small print underneath, it reads, "Padroni di Casa - Giuseppe e Mary Coleno." That surname is familiar, like I may have written it on an invitation or two.

"Ginepro is Italian for juniper, and the stuff grows up here like a weed. We cleared it out in autumn, but it's all back again, so cutting some every day and bringing it inside serves a dual purpose."

Edward places his arm around his father. "You can tell me, Dad. You two are making gin up here, aren't you?" Carlisle shakes his head as he laughs.

"This is amazing." Tanya studies a piece from the basket. "The berries are all different colors."

Mary answers. "They take a while to mature, and they don't all change color at the same time, so some are green, and some are blue."

"You have lots of this?" Tanya asks.

"Stacks. Do you want some? Take as much as you like."

"I'll be back." She leaves with a bundle of juniper, and Edward frowns at me. I walk out to the deck and see her disappearing down the steps. Jasper joins me, taking in the view, followed by Siobhan and Liam.

"Is Alice at school?" Jasper asks.

Siobhan replies with a knowing smile. "She'll be back here about four."

Jasper sighs and turns back to the lake. He won't show it to Siobhan, but I can tell he's eager to see his friend.

When Tanya returns, half an hour later, she lets out a big breath. "That's better. I'm happy now."

"Where did you go?" I ask.

"The florist. I made a slight change that you are going to love."

"Okay," I respond. With anything artistic, I trust this girl implicitly.

"So what are we doing?" Edward asks. "Can we check into the villa yet?"

Carlisle looks at his watch and throws him a set of keys. "You can take the small mini-van."

"Do you have guests tonight?" Edward asks.

"Just Renee and Charlie. We're full tomorrow night."

"Why don't you come down to us for dinner? Pizza?"

They look at each other and nod. "We'll come by boat," Joey announces.

Liam says, "I'll stay here with Mom."

"I'll stay too," Jasper follows.

"Authentic Italian pizza." Emmett smiles and rubs his hands together.

I look at my parents. "Mom, Dad, come and see our villa."

"We'd love to," they answer in unison.

It's a bit tricky bringing the van into the driveway of the house. Even with a remote control to open the gate, someone still toots their horn when we turn in.

Edward and Emmett take their garment bags and our suitcases upstairs while I show my parents around. Now it's ours for a week, and it looks even better than I remember. Having the lake so close is incredible.

Tanya comes out and breathes in the fresh smell of the water. "Emmett and I are going to the store for supplies."

"I'll go with you," Edward adds. "We'll give you some time to catch up."

He kisses my cheek, and I thank him for his thoughtfulness.

We walk out to the lawn, and I mention the weather forecast for Sunday afternoon.

"I wouldn't worry about the weather too much," Dad says. "We've seen rain and lightning in the last two days, but the mountains apparently catch it, like they do with the snow. It hasn't rained down on the lake at all."

"It's so pretty here. I'm glad we made it." Mom seems a little emotional as she stares at the water, and I think it's time I got some answers.

"So Mom, when did you start talking to Carlisle and Siobhan?"

"Ah, would you like me to start from the beginning?"

"Yes, I would. I want to hear it all."

She motions for us to sit down at a small table and chairs on the terrace. Dad leans on the balustrade as if he's ready to oversee the conversation.

"When all those people were killed in Paris, I wanted you home because I thought London was next."

"We were worried for a while too, Mom, but life goes on."

"I was terrified to come to Europe, obviously, and your father was very understanding. Then I had a panic attack getting on the flight to Phoenix and we had to abandon our trip for the holidays." She looks up at Dad as if she's still embarrassed. "I knew I was being snappy and argumentative for no reason, and when you told me you were going to Venice, all I saw was the magazine putting you in danger. I started waking up in a lather of sweat without recalling even a nightmare to explain it.

"Your father convinced me to go to my doctor, and her diagnosis was menopause. Without really listening to me, she wrote me a script for an antidepressant to help with the night sweats and irritability and asked me to come back in a month. She lost my respect that day, and I haven't been back.

"Thinking I could get through it without medication, I tried to stay in touch with you as much as possible. Gradually I could see us coming to the wedding, but when those… people... bombed Brussels airport… it destroyed every bit of confidence I had gained back. I retreated into myself for a while, and it took a good husband to pull me out of it," she says, smiling at Dad.

"I'm very grateful you continued to involve me in the wedding, but I still felt isolated, so we got Carlisle's number from Edward and called to see how the renovations were going. He's such a nice man, isn't he? He said we must stay with them when we came to Stresa, and I had to tell him I wasn't actually sure we'd be there. Your father stormed off and left me to end the call embarrassed and demoralized. That night we had the biggest argument of our married life, and he told me he'd be going without me if I didn't seek help."

"I was always coming, either way, Bells," Dad adds.

"Anyway, a couple of days later, Siobhan called just to talk, and we found we had things in common. She had gone through something similar, reaching menopause around the time her husband died. As she described the feelings of losing confidence in herself, it was like I was talking to a kindred spirit.

"She asked if I'd ever considered traditional Chinese medicine, saying it changed her life, and initially, I went out of curiosity. The doctor was very thorough, writing down all the details of my history and recent health. After he had a good look at my tongue and felt my pulse at different points on my wrist, I left with a bag of strange things to make tea and two appointments for acupuncture and massage. After three sessions, I saw improvement."

"So did I," Dad says, smirking at her.

"Of course, no one in the family ever asked if we were going to the wedding, so my cousins accepting your invitation really put the pressure on me to make a decision. I called Siobhan, admitting I may have to send your father without me. She asked me to imagine that outcome carefully—what it would feel like at the time and to consider its long-lasting ramifications.

"Then Goia called about the veil, saying how wonderful it was that I'd kept it for my daughter and what great luck it was for a bride to wear her mother's precious keepsake. If I sent it to you, someone else was going to pin it in place and help you get ready for your wedding." Mom shakes away that thought, and I touch her hand. Then she smiles and goes on. "We had a few calls with Edward around that time too."

"About what?" I ask, ready for another piece of the puzzle.

"This and that." Dad responds, and I narrow my eyes at him.

"Edward sent me a link to a video, showing Delta's business class, with details of their direct flights from New York to Milan. He said they were getting great reviews for their new flat bed seats, saying we should seriously consider it if we didn't already have our flights booked. I watched that video with my heart pounding, hyperventilating. Five or six hours into New York and another eight to Milan seemed like my worst nightmare, but I couldn't say no to him, so I just sent back a thank you and said it was a very long flight.

"Twenty-four hours later, he sent a text, asking if I'd ever tried hypnosis. He'd seen it work for a couple of divers who had claustrophobia during his training course. It taught them to use their breathing to calm themselves down. Then he added this little sentence at the end, 'Please try it, Renee, because the wedding won't be the same with both mothers missing.'"

I suck in a breath, not knowing what she's going to say next. When I nervously glance at Dad, he's playing with his moustache. Shit.

"It was a low blow, wasn't it?" she asks casually, and I nod, just once. "And exactly what I needed."

"Mom?" I hold my hand out to her, but she waves it away.

"I had a choice... and Edward's mother… didn't." She pauses to wipe a tear from her cheek and looks at the water.

"Did you try hypnosis?"

"Yes, I went four times and had to do self-hypnosis sessions every night. Somehow I fit it in while having acupuncture and finding the jewelry for your bridesmaids."

"This was only five weeks ago?"

"I'm sorry. I should have told you then, but there were so many decisions to make, and I was running out of time. My cousins were asking why we couldn't join their tour, but they were going around the entire country, spending a single night in each city. I didn't want to come to your wedding exhausted. Do you have any idea how many English-speaking tours there are in Italy?"

We both laugh because I've seen the endless list of them.

"I chose two tours that crossed over in Rome—one up to Tuscany and the other to Pompei and the Amalfi coast, mainly because of your wonderful descriptions I read when you were there. It was a lot of juggling to work out the dates, but I'm glad we did it that way. We had two nights in places like the Isle of Capri while they had two hours." She looks at Dad, and he smiles fondly.

"How _was_ the flight?" I ask, glancing between them.

"The deep breathing helped, but it's no cure. I have claustrophobia, Bella. Turbulence doesn't worry me in the slightest. It's knowing I can't get out once they close the doors that makes me panic. It's the same in elevators now, too, but I'll keep working on it. The doctor says I can manage it."

"When Edward talks about saturation diving, I can't get my breath. It's pretty overwhelming."

"God, I hope it's not hereditary," Mom says, her hand on her chest.

"I fly a lot, so I don't think so." I need to steer her away from this topic. "So, Dad, were you in cahoots with Edward? What was the 'this and that' you mentioned before?"

He scratches his moustache and then answers, "I might have said she was ready for a nudge."

"Charles Swan!" Mom stands to threaten him. He backs away and then runs when she chases him. I watch him dodge and weave as they both start to laugh, then he grabs her for a kiss. I'm grinning, gazing at them showing their love, when I hear the van pull in the driveway.

Emmett's already on his way into the house with a box of booze and several plastic bags. Tanya chuckles as she loads herself up with supplies when my husband plants a big noisy kiss on my cheek. "I missed you, gorgeous."

"My mother's just been telling me all about you."

His teeth graze his bottom lip. "Well..." He shrugs, looking uncomfortable.

"What made you guess she had a phobia?"

"Your father said she was avoiding booking the flights. He'd already told me what happened when she couldn't get on the plane to Phoenix, so her answer about the length of the flight made me think it could be an actual fear of flying."

"You went for the jugular, Edward."

"Charlie said it was time to shock her into action. I did it for you, babe."

I shake my head. "Dad doesn't realize that's like waving a red flag to a bull."

"Do you hate me?"

"No, I don't hate you. She's here, and that's what matters."

When I fold my arms around his neck and smile, he responds with a sigh of relief and a kiss.

"Jesus, you two." We stop kissing to find Emmett waiting for us. "Can I get past?"

We laugh and break apart enough for Emmett to reach in and pick up another box. I grab the rest of the bags, and Edward takes the last box himself, sliding the door of the van closed.

* * *

Edward and Emmett are all over Joey's boat when they pull in, and Joey takes them for a spin around Isola Pescatori. Edward is driving when they return, and Emmett calls out they'll be back with the pizzas. Carlisle explains that Edward was once the apprentice on Joey's last boat. It makes me smile to imagine him as a boy behind the wheel.

The evening is relaxed without music playing for a change. Once we've eaten, the men open up the boathouse then kick a soccer ball around on the lawn. I speak to Siobhan privately and thank her for her help with Mom. She says we each have our time when we're not firing on all cylinders.

The women and Liam settle in the living room, drinking wine, and talking about the hotel opening and the rehearsal dinner. Alice and Jasper spend the evening outside, going through photos on their phones. They've taken to each other as if they were never apart while Valentina now occupies her mother's lap.

"Well, that did not disappoint," Emmett announces with a belch. He's still eating cold pizza as we say goodbye to our guests departing on the boat. Liam is going back to stay at the hotel tonight. Alice's face is forlorn, and her hand is raised, just like Jasper's, as he stands next to us. There's something about their connection, like he brings out emotion she doesn't show readily. He's never seen her as different either because she isn't different when he's around. I hope the family can encourage the friendship rather than try to keep them apart because they're so young.

Edward wraps his arms around me. "You happy, baby?"

"Yes, I'm very content." I lean back against his chest and sigh. Carlisle unties the rope, and they all call out and wave. Edward hugs me as we watch the wake of the boat spread out. At this time of the day, the lake is a golden color. "It's so beautiful."

"It is with you here, Ees-a-bella." I turn in his arms to find his eyes, more stunning than ever, full of emotion and tiny flecks of gold only visible in an Italian sunset. He runs his thumb over my cheekbone and asks, "What do you say we start our honeymoon early? We have a big bed to check out."

I nod, and we walk back to the house hand in hand. Emmett and Tanya are getting comfortable on a couch, scrolling through movies, while Jasper is on his phone.

"Do you want to…?" Emmett starts to ask.

"Probably not." Edward cuts him off as we head for the stairs.

He's kissing me so passionately as he kicks our bedroom door shut, I melt into his warm chest and moan from the combination of his soft lips and tongue. Then he wraps me in a tight embrace as if I'm precious. When he loosens his arms, his eyes are smoldering but full of apology, and I have no idea why. He tilts my head up, kissing me sweetly. "There's no rush, is there?"

"No, we're on vacation."

He tries to smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. I close the curtains and wonder what's wrong with him all of a sudden. He takes my hand and sits on the bed, guiding me to stand between his legs. Then he strips me slowly, his eyes worshiping me as he takes each layer off. When he lays me down, I watch him remove his clothes and tingle with anticipation for the feel of his skin.

Then he joins me and studies his hand as it tenderly follows the contours of my body. When he's gentle like this, I find him wildly sexy. He kisses like it's the first time he ever let go, and my stomach flip-flops when he moans. I'm panting by the time he moves to my neck. "Oh, God, you are the most erotic kisser there ever was."

"When I'm consumed with lust for you, it's tied up in a powerful love. This is more than just sex, Bella." He continues as his teeth graze my ear. "I want you even more than I did a year ago—your smile, your touch, your body—all the time. Tell me. Do I ask too much of you? Do I want too much sex?"

"No." I can barely answer above a whisper. "I want this just as much as you do."

After a long drawn out exhale, he growls softly, palming my breast, watching his fingers splay out and squeezing my nipple gently between them. With my hands in his hair, I bring his mouth back to mine and lose myself in the exquisite sensations, heightened by the words that just poured out of him. I'm feeling a familiar ache inside, but this is so good, I selfishly enjoy it.

He slides his hand slowly over my tummy, and my head sinks deep into the pillow when his fingers enter me then circle my clit. I moan, lifting a leg over his hip. The offer is too much for him. He pushes inside and attacks my nipple with his tongue.

As my heart thunders away in my chest, there is nothing but Edward controlling every part of me. When he looks up, I see animal in his eyes, and he opens his mouth wide to bite the flesh of my breast. I watch his teeth drag across my skin as the bite narrows, and he takes my nipple into his mouth. He sucks just hard enough to hurt, and I come undone, fighting not to cry out. Soon he's struggling himself. I know how much he loves me coming while he's inside, and it often sets off his own release, but he tries to fight the inevitable by slowing down. When he finally stills, his arms crush me, and he buries his face in my hair as he rides out the waves of his orgasm.

As we come down together, I hold him and say, "I could never get enough of that. I love you, and I'm madly in love with you."

"Sometimes I can't believe this is real, and you still love me."

I pull his face up to look at me. "Next week, when we're alone, I'll prove you're my everything." The overpowering hug shows me I've said what he needed to hear. I'm not sure if it's because of the wedding, but I think my man might be having an emotional or confidence crisis.

Hopefully, before we come back to London, I can get him to open up a little more. We've become so close, but I want him to know it's not weak to lean on me.

 _ **Thanks for reading xo**_


	30. Chapter 30

**_It was a pleasure responding to your reviews. I'm so grateful for the encouragement._**

 ** _The details from these three wedding chapters came from my close real-life friends - two Italians and one whose daughter's wedding inspired me. Thank you to the three "L's"._**

 ** _Somehow, my lovelies, Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley, bent their time around yet another chapter. They continue to amaze me with how delicately they improve my words. Big love for you three xxx_**

* * *

Definition: Bomboniere (Italian) is a traditional gift or favor, given to guests at important ceremonies like first communions and weddings. It is commonly a decorative pouch or box containing candy-coated almonds, but can include a small keepsake of the event.

* * *

 **Chapter** **30**

"No more!" Tanya scolds, startling Edward as he bites into a candy-coated almond. Emmett stops chewing and swallows. "Just wait until we're finished before you eat any more."

"I can't help it if they're so damn addictive." Emmett pouts and drops five nuts into an organza bag, leaning it against the others. Tanya glares at him, and he gives her a sheepish look. "Okay." I'm trying not to laugh, but I'm glad she said something. If we do run out, I don't know where we'd get more.

Tanya and I are causing a bottleneck in this assembly line. It requires a delicate touch to thread ribbon through the hole in our thank you tags and tie up the bags so they look pretty. After seeing Edward and Emmett's presentation, we politely suggested they handle the nuts and the packing.

Each place setting will have a bomboniere, so every guest receives one of our adorable little ice cream bowls. They're insulated, double-walled stainless steel, designed to keep ice cream cold, but they can be used for hot things, like noodles or soup, or just nuts or snacks. They fit the criteria nicely—unbreakable, useful, and a lasting memento. I like them because they're beautiful.

Once we're done, we leave to join the work of getting the hotel ready for its unofficial opening. On arrival, Liam's delivery of food is coming in, and the men are stringing lights from the building to the trees. I stand there, smiling at the picture I've had in my head finally coming to life. It's really happening. Inside the hotel, everything is already spotless. All we can do is help with the beds and place fresh juniper in the rooms.

When Liam asked me to make a big batch of my sauce, I was nervous about him serving it to a group of Italians, but I do want to contribute to my rehearsal dinner. I also jumped at the chance to get to know Siobhan a little better. It's not that I have a pile of questions for her. I'm just in awe of her gift for knowing how to help people—first with Joey and Mary, and then with my mother. Out of respect for Esme, I would never say anything to Edward, but I could do worse than have Siobhan Mackenzie as a mother-in-law.

As I chop my vegetables, they pack away the rest of the food while we go over the menu. Liam and Siobhan are making fresh pasta tomorrow, and Jasper is eager to see how it's done. The main course is chicken breast, stuffed with mozzarella, sun-dried tomatoes, baby spinach, and basil, pan-fried, then baked. They're serving it with a combination of roasted vegetables, mushrooms, and herbs.

When Alice suggested gelato for dessert and offered to serve it, we liked the idea. Now I wish I'd been there to see her in action at L'angolo del Gelato. I bet they didn't know what hit them when she walked in to place the order, negotiated her price, and made them throw in the cones for free. That girl watches Nonna, and she learns.

The sauce is simmering by the time we leave to meet Nonna at the church. The priest welcomes us back, recounting fond memories of Edward. He asks if we attend mass, and Edward admits I'm not religious, and he hasn't been a practicing Catholic since his mother died. Without judging, the man says everyone is welcome in his church, and he hopes one day we'll bring our child to be baptized into the faith. Edward squeezes my hand, making me wonder if that's what he'll want.

With a smooth and warm manner, this gracious man makes us laugh over the local customs we're expected to follow. We agree with his preferences to modify the ceremony since we're already married. Nonna elaborates on a few points, and it's obvious they have a strong bond, like brother and sister, and the church and its congregation have been a big part of her life. When we leave, I'm looking forward to the ceremony without feeling any nerves.

I ask about payment for the church, and Edward says Nonna has taken care of it. He tells me the priest was a good friend of his grandfather, and his joining the priesthood was a big deal for the village of Stresa. For forty years he's been the reason so many people attend mass here.

"Why aren't you joining us tonight?" Edward asks Emmett as we're leaving for dinner.

"We can meet them tomorrow, can't we? Tan and I don't get a chance to go to dinner by boat very often."

"I'm jealous," I add, hugging my husband. "It's beautiful over there." They are going to the restaurant on the southern tip of Isola Pescatori. Its website showed tables overlooking the lake and a seafood menu I drooled over.

We're having dinner at the Hotel Astoria with my parents, Mom's cousins, Nonna, and her son, Joe. He's come from Chicago without his wife and kids because the school year hasn't finished, and Nonna isn't happy about it, so I hope she's going to be pleasant.

I needn't have worried. Nonna is beaming when she introduces her son, and I'm struck by how much Edward and his uncle look alike. Joe's hair and skin are darker, but you can see they are closely related. He embraces Edward and then holds onto his arms. "It's good to see you. You look just like her now," he says with emotion in his voice. It's a solemn moment, one soon overtaken by introductions.

Travel dominates the evening's conversation, starting with their visit to Isola Bella today. "The kids" are still in Milan, arriving tomorrow for the rehearsal dinner. Mom's cousins have covered a lot of Italy in three weeks, and I reminisce when they talk about places I loved. The only time they're quiet is while Edward describes the spectacle of Carnevale in Venice. They might be loud and slightly embarrassing, but they're mine. It feels good to have family here, and I'm grateful they came to my wedding. It actually makes me slightly teary, but my husband catches the moment and distracts me by squeezing my hand.

When someone asks for the location of the golf tournament tomorrow, the conversation takes off on a whole new tangent. Joe and Dad are comparing handicaps when Ang calls to say they're in the van approaching Stresa, about to drop off Maggie, Charlotte, and Peter at their apartment and pick up Liam and Jasper. The driver offers to collect us on the way through, and I send a text to Tanya to tell her we'll be back soon.

We're waiting out front when Nonna takes me aside and gives me a small pouch from her purse, saying I must wear something green tomorrow night for good luck. As I start to untie the drawstring, she covers my wrist with her hand. "Open it tomorrow. Thank you for bringing my family back to me." I look up to a gaze full of maternal love, and she envelops me in her arms.

The van pulls in, and I feel like squealing when I see Ang and Ben here in Stresa, but I hug everyone goodbye and thank them for a great evening. The driver toots his horn as we take off, and I excitedly point out Isola Bella to our new arrivals.

The villa has a few lights on, but it's locked up and quiet. I take Ang and Ben up to their room and hear the shower going, so I knock on the door, and Emmett calls out they'll be down in a minute.

Downstairs, I find my husband teaching Jasper how to open a bottle of French champagne. They wait for the sound of the soft pop, then Edward rewards him with a glass to toast his success. I'm feeling intoxicated from the wine we had with dinner, but I think my husband has had a few more than I have.

"Here's my baby," he calls out and welcomes me with his arm. "We had a great night, didn't we? I met Bella's family and saw my uncle Joe. Now, Jazz, you can't mix up Joe Coleno, son of Goia Coleno, with Joey Coleno, okay?"

 _So his mother's name was Coleno—funny how it resembles the name he took in another life—Cullen._

"This place is stunning," Ang announces as they come through with a freshly showered Emmett. They each accept a glass of champagne from Jasper.

"Come outside," Edward nods to Ben, "and see our lake." As we follow them, Ang tells me about the fairy lights they saw on the drive up and the lightning in the distance. Edward is looking up, grinning. "There it is, Bella, right above us." Out here, we're plunged into moonlight. The moon is not quite full, but it's bright.

"Everyone's here!" Tanya appears and gives Ang's shoulders a squeeze. Liam is with her, both of them holding glasses of champagne.

"A toast to summer, Italian villas, and weddings," Edward exclaims, raising his glass.

A small cheer goes up before Emmett toasts back, "Ay Veeva lee spozee," When we turn to him, he says, "What? I have to practice. It means long live the newlyweds," and they all repeat it back, laughing.

Jasper refills our drinks when Emmett and Edward go inside to call the pub. It's closing time in London.

Tanya comes up to me and says in my ear, "You should have said who you were bringing back here, Bella."

"Why?"

"We got a little amorous after dinner."

"Oh… sorry."

"It was so romantic. The moon came up before dark."

"I can't believe we're here," I hear Ang say to Ben from the terrace below as she wraps her arms around him.

"Imagine owning this," he responds and leans his cheek on her head.

"How is everything back home?" Liam asks when Edward and Emmett return.

Emmett answers, "The casual bartender is sloppy, apparently. They're replacing him."

"Apart from that?"

"Good. Normal for a Friday night," Edward responds.

"Eric is a good manager, Edward. You should think about opening another Masen's in Australia. He could run it for you, and I might even join him Down Under."

"Jesus, Liam, settle," Edward responds and hugs Liam's shoulders. "I need you with me, Chef."

Liam just smiles and nods. With those few words, they've given each other a wonderful compliment. The chef says the business is already good enough to expand, and the boss tells him he knows why. I love the respect they have for each other.

"You ready, girls and boys?" Emmett's shout out is the one he always used when he'd start the music in the Caravan. He wasn't asking for an answer then, and he isn't tonight. He just cranks up the volume—"Roadhouse Blues" by The Doors with John Lee Hooker. Edward puts down his drink and starts to move, coming over to take me in his arms. I never danced to this kind of music with him. In those days, he danced on his own, often stoned, while I stared, mesmerized by his hips and tanned chest. Back then, he was only a friend, a fantasy, a totally unsuitable and impossible choice for a boyfriend.

I didn't know he was going to be my future and the love of my life.

The sexy music continues with Stevie Ray Vaughan, B.B. King, The Rolling Stones, J. J. Cale, and Eric Clapton. Gradually, the others say goodnight until it's just the four of us—the Staff Barman and the Head Barman with their women and the blues.

* * *

Golf has never been my strong suit. I played a few games with Mom and Dad and had lessons until they realized it was a lost cause. My contribution to today's tournament is to make a pile of pancakes and send the golfers off, happy they don't have to wait for me to play fifteen shots per hole. Tanya and Ang have never played before and are happy they're not being dragged into it, either. We decide it's a much better idea to don our bikinis and head outside for some sun. Grabbing chairs from the boathouse, we give up on the idea of the beach when a boat goes past with wolf-whistling men and head to the relative privacy of the lawn.

As we pass the SPF 30 around, I ask Ang, "How were your exams?"

"Okay, not too bad, actually. One more performance and I'm done… finally."

"Good feeling, huh?"

"Yeah, but now I have to get a job as a dancer. Ben still has another year of university left, and we could do with the income."

It brings back a feeling of despair. "I've been there, and I don't envy you."

"But you did it, Bella. You got the job you wanted."

"I'm earning shit money, Ang."

She looks at me compassionately. "Then it's just as well I don't choose my friends by how much money they make."

I smile at her. "I knew there was a reason I liked you as soon as I met you." Tilting my chin toward Tanya, I add, "Same with this girl. You both welcomed me into your lives, and I'll never forget you for it."

Tanya deadpans. "She said she'd clean the loo, Ang."

Ang's mouth drops open. "She told us she would clean our bathroom!"

"That's true. It was the only way I could make friends," I pretend they've upset me, but I soon break into a smirk. None of my girlfriends back home was anything like these two women. Both of them have done so much for me and my husband; they're our friends for life.

Sighing, Ang looks out at the lake. "I wish we didn't have to go back so soon. When do you leave? Tell me where you're going on your honeymoon."

"We're all going to Milan on Thursday. These guys are flying back to London, and we're staying over because we're on a 7 am flight Friday. We fly direct to Santorini and spend three nights there. Then we have one night on Amorgos and a week on Donoussa. We're coming back a different way—cruising to Athens and then flying to London."

"Oh, wow. This time tomorrow, Bella." Ang has a dreamy look on her face.

"Yeah," I reply, thinking about our meeting with the priest. "There are a few things I should share about tomorrow."

"Such as?" Tanya asks.

"The priest wants both Edward and I inside the church before the congregation comes in."

"I'm Catholic, and I've never heard of that before," Ang responds, quite surprised.

"It's part of an Italian tradition where the bride and groom welcome their guests to the ceremony."

"Hang on," Tanya interrupts. "Is Edward allowed to see you before you walk down the aisle?"

"It doesn't seem to matter at that point. Oh, and he actually does bring the bouquets."

"To the church?" she asks, and I shrug because I didn't really clarify that detail. "So how _do_ you greet everyone?"

"I don't. There's a room at the back where we wait. The priest will come and get us and he leads us down the aisle—the boys first, then our immediate family, followed by Alice, you, Dad, and I."

Tanya nods her head in understanding.

"The priest said since we're already married, I don't have I wear the veil over my face. However, he wants us to pledge our commitment to each other in God's house, so we'll still do the 'will you, Edward, take Bella' part.

"He feels strongly that we shouldn't remove our rings for the ceremony. He'll do a blessing like he did last time. Since it's not a full nuptial mass, and I'm not Catholic, we're not having communion. It's not a big deal because they can take communion on Saturday night or at the two masses before ours. I get the impression that he's run the church for so long, he can bend the rules to suit the situation. The whole thing is spoken in Italian, but he's going to guide us in English. We really like him. He's actually coming to the reception."

"Oh, that's quite common," Ang states.

"When it's over, Joey or Carlisle will get you and Ben on someone's boat. There's a flotilla coming up here."

"I wonder how many people go to a wedding reception by boat. I can't wait."

* * *

I'm hugging my husband, admiring how incredible everything looks, when our guests start to arrive. I spend an hour being introduced to an elegant group of people who all know each other well—some who've come from afar and the rest of the family from Milan.

Most of them comment on the green heart-shaped jewel hanging around my neck, and I'm honored to say it's a gift from Nonna. It goes well with the lace dress I'm wearing, the same one I wore when we married in Seattle. Edward is in black slacks and a cream dress shirt, looking gorgeous as usual. Unfortunately, he has an overnight bag and his wedding suit inside where he's staying tonight.

Everyone wants a photo to record the newest additions to the family. They're all very welcoming, and I'm struggling to remember names, so I get out my own camera and start taking shots.

Charlotte, Peter, and Maggie rave about the town and this location in particular. Maggie comments on the fragrance in the air, and I tell her it's the juniper and roses adorning the tables. They've had a fantastic day, driving along the lake and having lunch in Switzerland. After they describe Locarno, Edward and I decide we are going there before we leave for Greece.

Joey makes sure everyone knows who my parents are. Mom is a celebrity tonight, having won the golf by a margin of one shot over Edward's Uncle Joe, and Dad is proud of her. They're all glowing, having caught too much sun.

When Jasper, Alice, and Valentina bring trays of canapes around, it's obvious the two girls have met these people before. Alice speaks to everyone in Italian, pleased to greet them. Valentina is comfortable too, and it makes me happy to see her joining in.

Everyone devours their pasta, and nobody questions my sauce. When they've finished serving the chicken, Liam comes out to eat with us.

"Bella tells me you're the chef at Masen's," Maggie announces. "But you weren't there the day I came in."

Emmett points a finger at her. "I knew I'd seen you before."

She hardly acknowledges him, her eyes fixed on Liam. "My review might have been different if _you_ had been on duty."

"In what way?" Liam asks, popping one of his delicious mushrooms in his mouth.

"More eye candy, obviously."

"Oh, really?" he asks with a smirk.

"I did say I loved your food."

"Well, eat up… before it gets cold."

The electricity sizzles in the air between them, and no one else speaks until Edward breaks the spell, "I agree with Maggie. I love his food, too, and this was another amazing meal. Thank you, Liam, and thank you, Bella." He puts his arm around me and kisses my hair.

As if it's been rehearsed, Dad, Carlisle, Joey, Emmett, and Ben clear the plates and take them to the kitchen. It's getting dark, and I gaze down to the deep blue of the lake, sprinkled with lights. The men return with bottles of Prosecco, pouring them for the guests who lap up the attention.

"So what's the latest?" Edward directs the question to Ben as he fills our glasses. "What's going to happen with Brexit?"

"Difficult to predict, Ed. It's going to be close."

"Why are we even in the EU?" Tanya asks, and I can't help throwing my answer into the mix.

"Well, Britain came out of the Second World War victorious, but their economy was crippled by government control and regulation. They were still on rations, while Germany, defeated and almost flattened by the war, removed all regulation and flourished. The Brits watched as Germany became one of the most innovative and powerful countries on earth in just two decades, and they saw the benefits of joining the EEC. France voted them out twice in the sixties, and it wasn't until Charles de Gaulle's resignation that Denmark, Ireland, and Britain were allowed to join. Unfortunately, the man who took control of the EEC was a French bureaucrat who, ironically, had helped create the regulations that stifled the British economy."

No one says anything, but they're listening, so I go on.

"The Brexit argument is essentially whether democracy is more valuable than free trade with neighboring countries. As part of the EU, Britain has given up the power to govern itself. British Members go to the European Parliament, but decisions are not made there. A council of unelected elitists governs like it has a God-given right to rule."

Ben adds, "The Brits call them 'Eurocrats.'"

"I think it's strange that Brexit is happening at a time when the World Trade Organization has opened up trade barriers to outside countries, so the benefits of staying are already diminishing. Within the Eurocrats' supposed perfect society, the unemployed are rioting in the streets, and whole countries' economies have fallen over. It's already crumbling."

"That's a nice piece of political commentary, Bella. You've done some homework on this?" Maggie asks.

"Yeah, I find it fascinating, especially with all the different opinions that come into the pub."

"What's _your_ opinion? Do you have a prediction?" she asks.

"Personally, I don't want to see Europe become homogenized and lose all its different cultures and languages and food, so I'm against the EU. However, I'm with Ben. I think it's going to be really close from what I'm hearing."

"Are you interested in covering public opinion on political events?"

"Yes," I answer instantly.

"When you come back from your honeymoon, let's have a meeting about it."

"I'd love to." Trying to appear calm, my heart is pounding as my head fills with ideas. The only thing grounding me is Edward's hand wandering over my hip, and I kiss him, almost forgetting where I am until Tanya draws my attention to the sound of metal tapping on glass.

Joey is standing, and in his best English, he thanks Carlisle and Siobhan for their hard work in restoring the hotel and giving him back his passion for life. It's not a long speech, but it's heartfelt, and he repeats it in Italian before the two men embrace. The round of applause is loud and honest. It makes me remember how he was when I first met him, and I could applaud all night for how different he is.

Nonna stands to speak, welcoming everyone and thanking them for coming. She says the time spent planning the wedding and watching the hotel transform has brought her more joy than she can remember. Reconnecting with Alice, Edward, Carlisle, and now Joe is everything. Then she looks at me.

"I am certain Edward was destined to meet Bella because their love has repaired our broken family. She is the reason we're here tonight, and I thank Renee and Charlie Swan for giving her to us." Edward is clutching my arm firmly when she raises her glass. "To my granddaughter, Bella. May you have as much happiness as you have brought to me."

There's no Italian translation, but everyone toasts and says my name. Suddenly, I'm a mess. Tears roll down my cheeks as I go to her, and she opens her arms. She's not crying, and I don't think I've ever seen her look so happy. After a quick hug, she tells me to go back and relax and enjoy myself. When I return to the table, Ang and Tanya are drying their eyes with their napkins, and I have to do the same. Edward kisses my cheek and rubs my arm.

He whispers in my ear, "Every word she said is true." I tell him to stop making me cry.

Alice and Valentina make a game out of trying to predict which flavor we'll choose for our ice cream, and everyone finds it hysterical. The girls call out a name and add the scoop before announcing the flavor. If someone says no, they act mortified and then run around, trying to "sell" the ice cream to someone else before it melts. They handle most in Italian and some in English, so everyone understands what's going on.

This is an Alice I've never seen before, and I notice Jasper, leaning against the wall at the back, watching her. He's right there to help when she packs up, and I see her smile and thank him. He's so damn cute with her.

Edward and I move around our guests, and Nonna or Joey bring people to us, sometimes staying to help translate. As they start to leave, the rest of the evening is one long farewell. Charlotte and Peter come over and ask if we've seen Maggie.

I shake my head. "She'll be with Liam somewhere. They've been together all night."

"Hmm, I don't think they're here. Is he nice? How old is he?" I'm surprised Charlotte thinks she has to protect Maggie.

"Liam is very nice," I assure her. "He's either thirty-one or thirty-two. He doesn't make a _big deal_ of his birthday." I nudge Edward, who knows my words are aimed at him, and he pays me back by running his hand over my ass and squeezing it lightly.

"I'd like to see him find a partner," Edward comments. "Preferably someone from London."

"I saw that, Edward." It's Nonna. "Keep your hands off her and show some respect."

"Yes, Nonna," he replies with smirk, moving his hand to my waist.

"I'm leaving. I'll see you in the morning, Bella," she says, kissing my cheeks and tweaking Edward's between her thumb and forefinger. "By the way, Edward was right—your sauce _is_ delicious." Her companions say goodnight, thanking us for the evening, and I look behind me to find everyone has left. Tables and chairs are stacked, ready to be picked up in the morning, and our families have gone inside.

"Let's go," Charlotte says to Peter. "I wonder why she didn't say goodbye."

Edward shakes Peter's hand, and I give her a quick hug. When they walk down the driveway, we're alone for the first time tonight. I put my arms around his neck and kiss him, but he holds my waist and shakes his head.

"What?"

"If I start kissing you in this dress, Bella, I'll want to go back with you." I sigh because I hate that we have to be parted tonight. "Why are we doing this again? It's _our_ wedding."

"They asked you to stay here, and you agreed. You're doing this for your father who wasn't there when we were married before. "

He looks at me for a few seconds before he responds. "Okay... but you should go. It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

"Come on." I take him down the path toward the voices in the kitchen. Our driver is waiting, sipping coffee, while everyone else dries pots and baking dishes or packs things away. "That was amazing. Thank you so much, everyone. I loved it."

Carlisle answers. "You are very welcome, Bella. Did the others go?" Edward nods and squeezes my hand.

"Are you ready, Marcus?" Mom asks the driver, who finishes his coffee and hands her his cup. Jesus, she's already on a first name basis with the man who's been driving us for a year. "Eight o'clock sharp, Bella."

"Eight o'clock," I say into her hair as she hugs me.

When they follow us out, I'm feeling something terrible, like darkness spreading inside me. I stand at the side of the van, reluctant to get in. "I feel hollow inside."

With a sigh of relief, Edward says, "I thought it was only me. I just felt like I was going to be sick."

He sweeps me into a kiss that fills me up so much I know I'll never feel whole when we're apart. He holds my cheek, kisses me softly, and smiles. "Go, baby, and sleep." I only take a step away when he pulls me back. "One more before I let you go."

With my hands on his face, I kiss him goodbye and then wave to our parents as I get in the van. He stays where he is, looking miserable, only joining the others when the motor starts up. Carlisle wraps his arm around his shoulders and the gut-wrenching feeling returns when I have to wave goodbye. We haven't been apart overnight since we married, so this must be the physical manifestation of loss.

In tears, I crane my neck to keep him in sight. When I can't see him anymore, I pull out my phone and send the words I should have said.

"I love you."

" _I love you more."_

"That's not possible."

" _Yes, it is."_

"Well, I do love you."

" _See you in the morning at our wedding."_

"I'll be the one in the red mini and the black boots."

" _Tell the driver to turn around and come back for me."_

"NO!"

" _Then goodnight, my love."_

"Okay, goodnight."

When I'm in bed, I can't be sad. I have a pillow to hug that smells like my husband. He won't be gone for long, and he's not far away.

* * *

Emmett's phone goes off early, and I hear him trudge downstairs, talking to someone. The people have arrived to assemble the tent. Since none of us speaks Italian, we're relieved when Carlisle appears to supervise where they place the tent's footprint. It takes four men to carry in the enormous rolls of carpet on their shoulders.

I leave them to it and knock on Tanya's door.

"What time is it?" she asks, half-asleep.

"Just after six. I'm getting in the shower. I don't want to have to rush."

"How about I make some coffee?"

I sigh. "Oh, yes, please… I love you."

"Just chill," she says, holding my arm. "You know it's going to be great."

By the time Marcus comes for us at 7:45, the massive tent is well underway, and I've taken photos to commemorate its assembly. I leave a list on the dining table for Mary and Valentina who will make sure certain things happen before we come back here. One box holds the seating plan and the bookmarks we're using as place tags. They will need to lean against the bomboniere boxes.

There are also two picture frames to stand on a table wherever Mary decides to put it. One holds a small poster with the words, "Share your photos on Instagram. Condividere le foto su Instagram. HASHTAG #masensgetmarried." I had the same words printed underneath the name on the bookmarks.

The other frame is something I could not resist. Our guests sign or write a small message on little hearts made of wood and drop them in an opening at the top. I liked it because we can hang it on a wall upstairs at the pub and look at it every day.

Making sure there are several pens, I double-check the list, happy I've covered everything, and look at the lake. The day is overcast, so I'm hoping the summer sun will burn the clouds away. The forecast is still for storms this afternoon.

Nonna has provided fresh pastries and a tray of sliced fruit for us. Uncle Joe has already gone up to the hotel, so it's just the photographer and us girls. He wants to video everything we do without us looking at him, so it looks natural. A second photographer is capturing what's happening as the boys get ready at Joey's.

Mom is looking for a spot to plug in her curling iron when Nonna brings out a set of hot rollers. Mom's face lights up, and she hugs Nonna like she's heaven-sent. It's funny Nonna keeps them when her gray hair hasn't changed in the year I've known her—no more than an inch long all over. It reminds me of Jamie Lee Curtis or Dame Judi Dench, and it suits her so well.

When both bridesmaids have rollers set to corkscrew their hair, Mom does Alice's makeup, and Nonna is misty-eyed when she finishes. "My granddaughter has grown into a stunning woman, and you are an artisan, Renee."

"Thank you, Goia," she responds as she starts to work her magic on Tanya.

Mom removes the rollers gently, adding a light mist of spray, and asks them not to touch their hair. Nonna takes them away to get dressed.

While the rollers heat up again, Mom sections my hair. "I've actually done a couple of weddings recently."

"Really!" I exclaim, hearing this for the first time.

"Someone was unavailable, and they asked me to help. It's only casual at the moment."

"That's great news." I'm so pleased she's taken this step.

"I need something to do, Bella."

"And you're very good at it, Mom."

"Well, I'm going to try."

I'm wondering why there are so many small rollers around the back of my head, but I don't question her. Mom and I have tried every style over the years, and she knows what suits me. She even adds a few of the medium sized rollers to her own hair. When my makeup is done, she hands me a small mirror, and I smile because it's her best work ever. I'm still me, but I feel confident that I look good—a great way to start my wedding.

Removing her rollers, she runs her fingers through her hair. Then she painstakingly unwinds mine and starts teasing the front. Singing to herself as she twists and rolls, she adds the comb I bought in Seattle and smiles at me. Then she takes bobby pins from me, one after another, teasing and combing and pinning. I'm aware of the weight of my hair, perched higher and looser than usual.

She leads me into the bathroom with a can of hairspray and I gasp at the updo she's setting with its mass of soft curls at the back, some of them hanging down to my shoulder.

"I love it! I really love it, Mom. Thank you."

"You look very beautiful," she responds when I hug her.

My bridesmaids appear and I grin, seeing them in their dresses. Out of the two, Alice's version has less skin showing, her straps kept wide, crossing over her chest and back before wrapping around her waist.

Tanya has created something completely different, wrapping around her breasts and then taking one strap diagonally up over her shoulder. She looks like something straight from the catwalks of Milan.

"Like our jewelry?" Alice asks, flicking her earrings, and I nod, feeling of the movement at the back of my head, a sensation I'll have to get used to. "I love it. Thank you, big sister." She gives me a real hug.

 _Oh, Alice._

Tanya is putting her bracelet on. "Excellent choice, Renee, and thank you, lady. Now, do we need a crane to get you into the dress?"

"Nope, it's really very light."

Nonna arrives with a tray of drinks. "Mimosa?" She even allows Alice to have one. Nonna is wearing a purple chiffon dress with a three-tiered hem, a purple and pink beaded neckline, and a sheer jacket in the same length and color. I have to tell her she looks fantastic. Seeing her makes me wonder if Alice will be tall and willowy like Nonna because she's already reached my height.

Mom sits Alice down to weave a soft braid across the top of her head and smooth out the corkscrew curls to her satisfaction. I go into Nonna's bedroom to get changed.

There is nothing ladylike about squeezing into a stretchy corset, even a soft one like mine. I'm pulling it up when my phone rings, and it's Edward. Bursting into giggles, I answer, "Wedding Central, how may I help you?"

"You got your boots on yet?"

"I'm actually struggling to pull them on right now," I say, wiggling and yanking the corset up some more.

"There's a Charles Swan here who wants to know how long before you need him."

Mom still has to finish Tanya's hair and get dressed. "I don't know. Twenty minutes?"

"How did you sleep?"

"I slept well, snuggled up to a pillow that smells like my husband."

"Damn. I should have taken yours with me."

There's a knock at my door.

"I like the real thing better," I say, pouting slightly.

"Yeah. I love you, baby. I'll see you soon."

"I love you too, Edward."

I drag the corset into position and sing out, "You can come in, but no photographer!" I'm still stretching this sadly necessary undergarment into place when Alice slides through the door. After checking the back is okay, I pull on my blue garter and down my drink before reaching for my dress. Stepping into it is easy, but she has to fasten thirty-five buttons up the back. "Oh, what we women do, Alice. I bet it took the boys five minutes to get ready."

"Um… you haven't seen their outfits."

"What does that mean?"

"You'll see soon enough."

"Is Edward really bringing the flowers?"

"Yep, they were in the big fridge when I left this morning."

"It feels weird leaving here without them."

"Uh-huh," she responds. "You're all done."

"And you look gorgeous, Alice. Jasper is going to die when he sees you."

She blushes, suggesting there's something more than friendship on her side. I've already seen it his eyes, but now I'll watch more closely. She pulls on one of my curls, smiling when it springs back, and Nonna calls out. "Can he come in?"

"Sure," I answer, slipping into my very high platform shoes.

"Molto bellissima!" Nonna gushes as she walks in and sits on the bed. The photographer is right behind her, followed by Tanya, who has a braid in her hair as well. Now both my bridesmaids look like Grecian goddesses.

"Oh, Bella, the hair is so good with that dress."

"I know. My mother's a genius, Tanya," I respond as I put on my earrings and bracelet.

As soon as Mom is ready, she comes in with the veil, laying it on the bed. I know this moment means a lot to her, and she already looks emotional. She gathers up my phone and the pouch containing the emerald and my engagement ring and places them in her handbag. Then she sighs deeply.

"I know you're not wearing the veil over your face, but can we get a couple of shots just to record what you would have looked like?"

"Oh, of course, Mom." She goes to work, looking lovingly at the fabric as she pins it in place. As she fans it out, I see myself as the virginal bride while the photographer snaps away with his camera before picking up his video again.

"This is your veil, Renee?" Alice asks, touching the sheer fabric.

"Yes, it is, Alice," she answers. "I wore it in 1990."

"Nonna has Mom's veil."

I almost cry hearing this simple statement. Alice will never have her mother here like this on her wedding day, but she just nods. When we hear a knock on the front door, Alice leaves to see who it is.

"Nonna?"

"Is it Dad?" I call out to her.

"Yes, he's here... Nonna?"

"Just let him in, Alice."

Nonna goes out, and when I don't hear anything, I follow her.

It's not Dad I see, but Edward standing in the open door, holding my bouquet. He has the other photographer behind him, and his smile grows as his eyes rake over me.

Dashing is the word that comes to mind—the black suit and ivory vest, shirt, and tie—the same color as my dress. He's so incredibly handsome that I'm speechless. I've never seen him dressed up like this before. Behind him are Emmett, Jasper, and Dad in matching suits, only Emmett's tie is aqua, Jasper's is lemon, and Dad's is navy.

Eventually I find my voice because his being here must be the worst kind of bad luck in an already superstitious family. "You're not supposed to see me before the wedding."

"This _is_ the wedding, my love." Then he sighs. "And you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Holding the bouquet out to me, he stands up straight, strong and ready.

"Isabella... per piacere accetti il mio regalo."

I gasp at the Italian, then Nonna translates for him. "Isabella, please accept my gift."

Taking the bouquet, I answer, "Grazie." It's the same as I remember, with the addition of juniper berries in green and blue. Tanya was right—I do love the change she made. When I look up, I see Edward's boutonniere is a rose with a sprig of juniper. He takes my left hand and kisses my wedding ring.

"Mi fai accomparniarti ha chiesa?"

"Will you allow me to escort you to the church?"

 _Oh, Edward, I'm so in love with you right now._

"Si."

"E mi vuoi sposare?"

"And will you marry me?"

Emotion flows through me, and I know how I must respond from the love in his eyes. I want him to hear how it sounds from my lips.

"Si. Ti amo."

With a smile that dazzles me, he declares, "Let's go." He leads me down the steps from the porch and wraps my arm around his.

The veil still covers my face, but I don't want to change it. Somehow, it feels like I am meant to wear it this way.

 _ **thanks for reading xo**_


	31. Chapter 31

**_This chapter became so long, we decided with everyone's busy life at the moment, it was either post something now or wait until next year. I do hope you enjoy the shorter half of the chapter. Thanks to all who are still reading and leaving amazing reviews!_**

 ** _Once again, Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley have done a wonderful job of knocking this into shape, still discovering words I use that they don't understand (Aussie speak) and making me stick to the "less is more" rule. Love you girls xxx_**

 ** _Let's get on with this wedding..._**

* * *

 **Chapter** **31**

A crowd of glamorous people awaits us outside the church. I know I must have met most of them before, but the women look different in chic dresses and amazing shoes. Some of them even have hats. Every man wears a suit.

Nonna waves to them, asking Edward to stay behind, then leads the rest of us to our waiting room inside the church. The eleven o'clock mass is still going, and Nonna puts a finger to her lips to remind us to keep quiet. Once we're in the room, she closes the door and leaves.

"Do you want me to pull the veil back?" Mom asks.

"No, I like it. It feels lovely wearing it."

She admires the soft tulle, making sure it falls perfectly. "Yes, I remember."

"She looks like a proper bride," Dad remarks.

"And you look like a real father of the bride, Charles Swan," Mom observes.

He runs his hand down his sleeve. "It's a nice suit."

Seeing the everyday way my parents show love for each other makes me emotional. "I'm so glad you two are here." Dad puts his arm around me and pulls me to his side.

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world, Bells."

Speaking of bells, they ring out across Stresa, releasing a wave of butterflies inside me. When Edward joins us, I smile because we are now four matching couples. I hope the photographers captured everyone's reaction to seeing each other because I was caught up in the moment with my husband.

We sit down, and he plays with my wedding ring, spinning it around my finger. "Are you nervous?" I ask him quietly.

"Not really. You?"

"A little. I'm still getting over you turning up at Nonna's and speaking Italian."

He smiles and traces the edge of the veil. "That one is a really good tradition."

The priest enters with Carlisle, Siobhan and Goia. "We are ready."

Dad and I watch the others proceed before us and look at each other, taking a deep breath when it's our turn. Our flowers look incredible, and their scent is something I will remember forever. A sea of phones and cameras follow our walk down the aisle, and one of Mom's cousins puts her hand to her heart. A man picks up a toddler in a satin dress, and she leans her head against his, sucking her thumb. I notice Liam, standing next to Maggie, Charlotte, and Peter. They're all grinning at us.

Edward's smile seems to grow bigger every step we take.

Reverently, Dad lifts the veil and kisses my cheek then places my hand in Edward's. His expression shows why these traditions continue. They carry deep emotion and meaning. When Dad sits down with Mom, and the congregation settles, the priest speaks quietly to the six of us, telling us exactly what to do.

I give my bouquet to Tanya and take both of Edward's hands. We say our vows first, prompted in English, but the blessing is done in Italian. He instructs Edward to "kiss your bride," and the kiss is tender and respectful, as it should be in church.

Mom and Nonna light a taper at each end of the altar. We hear chuckles and look around to find a tiny boy has come up to watch. His father is ready to retrieve the escapee, but the priest holds the child's hand and allows him to stay. Edward and I smile at him, then use the tapers to light a bigger candle, symbolizing the joining of our families.

We take our places in the front row for a reading from the Bible, and the congregation responds to the priest's words of prayer. A song follows, and then Alice comes up to speak. I don't understand her Italian, but I feel sincerity come through in her tone. Edward is spinning my ring again, and he picks up my hand to kiss it. I smile at him, hearing words I recognize like "madre", "padre", "nonna", and "Edward", so I know she is talking about the family. Holding a piece of paper, she only glances down occasionally, speaking without hesitation. Edward is preoccupied, twisting my ring the whole time.

The priest speaks after her, and waves of laughter roll through the congregation. I would love to know what he is saying, but they're recording the whole service, so we can have it translated.

Some of the family read short passages from the Bible and move to the side of the altar. Then the priest invites the wedding party, Goia, and our parents for a photo in front of the congregation. I smile because I wasn't expecting this, and Edward is delighted as well, kissing my cheek. People juggle positions to take photos, and the church fills with applause that continues as we walk up the aisle. The bells peal again, only the sound is different—like a celebration. It makes my heart soar.

To say the Italians throw a lot of rice is an understatement. They shower us to the point where we break into laughter, then everyone starts yelling something about "batcho". When it's clear we don't understand, Carlisle calls out, "Kiss her!" The cheer that goes up when we kiss is outrageous, but this is Italy, where tradition is everything. Then we're mobbed by people wanting to hug and congratulate us.

Mom dabs at her eyes with an actual handkerchief even before we embrace. Dad looks like he's fighting off tears himself.

Maggie comes up, looking unusually feminine. For once, she has allowed her light brown hair to fall softly around her shoulders. Her ankle-length dress is cream with a riot of big flowers and leaves, yellows and pinks and greens. When I comment, she says she wasn't going to get so dressed up, but she stumbled upon the dress at Goia's boutique. Liam, who is very handsome standing beside her, doesn't see the knowing look I get from Charlotte.

A photographer calls out from a patio above the bank next door, and we all look up for a big group shot. When the other photographer urges us to leave for our boat, we notice the ominous sky.

Car horns blare as we cross the road to the marina. Someone yells out "Viva gli sposi," which Emmett calls back loudly.

Edward gets onboard first and helps me in. As he waits for Alice, Jasper tells him he'll look after her. After a few seconds, eyeball to eyeball, Edward warns, "You better," then lifts his hands, allowing Jasper to take over. The photographer starts shooting when Edward puts his arms around me as I stare at the dark clouds building. I'm wondering if this is a bad idea.

"It's the wedding day," the photographer reminds us. "Rain brings good luck."

 _Yeah, except it looks like it's going to pour._

He seats us at the back of the boat and films us leaving the marina. I look back and smile, seeing the church in the background. Leaning into Edward, I try to relax and imagine the party we're going to.

As we approach Isola Bella, they stop the boat for photos with the island behind us, then we drop off the photographer and swing around so he can film us coming in. It's almost a year since the day I stepped off the ferry here into Edward's arms, and I have a lump in my throat when he holds his hands out to me.

Crowds of tourists part for our wedding party and gape at us like we're celebrities. There were no tourists here when Beatrice Borromeo brought Grace Kelly's grandson to marry at the "family home" last year. I remember Nonna saying Stresa was like a circus, and they closed the island.

Now _we're_ being posed at the top of the Teatro Massimo like we own the place. Our photographer frames dramatic pictures in front of Neptune's statue and uses the stairs to capture us all together. He positions the three couples for long shots up the lawn. We think we're lucky, having an agreeable peacock in our photos, until we find out he holds a supply of its treats.

With the weather holding out, we move to the eastern side of the island to use the background of the lake.

"Did you know Liam didn't come home last night?" Emmett says under his breath, ruining the shot when Tanya and I gape at him. "Who wants to ask him about it?"

"Good luck to him," Edward responds as the photographer sighs.

An hour has elapsed by the time we board the boat again and head for Baveno. I have a feeling of elation, having crossed an important thing off our list.

"Wow!" Alice calls out as we get close.

"Oh, my God," Tanya mutters through fingers covering her mouth.

It's the same place we left this morning, but now it's teaming with life. Our private marina is full of boats, and the tent has transformed the villa into something opulent with music to match. Tonight's playlist is courtesy of Laurent, and this classical piece, with its violins and accordions, is as grand as the sight before us. We slow the boat down because it really is magnificent.

The deep sultry voice of an Italian singer seems popular when couples move to the terrace to dance. Then someone discovers us, and glasses and voices are raised in the air.

When Edward lifts me off the boat and kisses me, there's a cheer. We walk up to the villa, accompanied by Michael Buble's "Sway". When I turn around, Emmett is leading Tanya in a kind of tango, and she's laughing. Alice and Jasper look slightly overwhelmed.

The smell of food is mouthwatering, and a waiter greets us with a tray of canapes and glasses of Prosecco. I'm in heaven, eating the tiny crackers I chose, drizzled with toffee and topped with goat's cheese and cranberry. Edward goes for my second choice, the smoked salmon.

"Oh, they're so good," Emmett gushes, eating half of them.

"La Vie En Rose" is playing, and I remember the day Laurent asked us to listen to Andrea Bocelli. I sway to the music, seeing the tent's interior for the first time. It's beautiful, especially with the walls open to the garden. The song sends me into a languorous state, as if I'm watching everything happen in slow motion. Children are outside, playing with the wooden games Carlisle made. The giant Jenga set is popular with pre-teens. Fathers and uncles help kids throw sandbags through a hole in a platform—a game we called "cornhole' when I was young. There's croquet for the little ones. Teenagers sit in isolation, texting and sharing the contents of their phones.

It's all here in this big growing family—kids, pregnancy, gorgeous women, and stylish men, cousins, uncles, and aunties, catching up on each other's busy lives. I grin at people, and they wave. They think I'm saying hello, when I'm just grinning, feeling the romance of the setting and the song. I could stand here and watch them all afternoon, but a clap of thunder has the photographer whisking us away to the terrace for family photos. Mom hands me my engagement ring then unpins my veil, and Edward touches my curls, telling me I look gorgeous.

Robin Schulz's "Prayer In C" makes Emmett's face light up. "I wondered how soon he'd show his face." This is one of Laurent's favorite songs, and somehow it fits the occasion perfectly.

"Laurent will make sure we feel his presence," Edward adds, moving to the music. "I wish they all could have come."

After we have photos with our parents and Nonna, the photographer captures my dress and us as a couple from every conceivable angle. He then turns the camera on Alice and Jasper, who are giggling as they practice formal dancing.

Frank Sinatra, singing "I've Got You Under My Skin," has some of the older set getting their groove on, and we stop to dance with them briefly, joined by Mom and Dad. Goia breaks up our little party, scooting us inside to wait until they announce us.

The volume lowers, replaced by the piercing squeal of a microphone. Alice winces but sighs when Jasper rubs her back. Uncle Joe is our master of ceremonies, and he asks everyone in Italian and English to take their place at the tables.

"I can't wait for that pasta," Emmett declares.

"Lobster," I add, starving.

Joe makes the announcement. "Father of the groom, Carlisle Masen and Siobhan Mackenzie."

To the sound of applause, Emmett shakes his head. "You gotta be kidding." As Mom and Dad get ready to go, he asks, "Is Laurent deejaying from London?" He's commenting on the choice of song—Barry White, singing "Can't Get Enough Of Your Love, Babe," playing as we make our entrances. "Let's get it on," he says, rolling his fists over each other.

There's more applause to greet my parents, but something happens when Alice and Jasper go out, like the crowd gets a shock. It doesn't sound serious and is followed by a communal sound of relief. It's driving me mad not being able to see, so I sneak a sneak a peek at Emmett and Tanya's entrance. They dance well together, and the crowd whoops and calls out in appreciation.

"Le sposi, our bride and groom, Edward and Bella Masen." I look at Edward nervously, remembering when I agreed to come in like this against my better judgement. We've only practiced briefly, a toned-down version of the way we dance when out clubbing in London. As we enter the tent, he pulls me to him, and my thigh pushes between his legs. We mold ourselves together, keeping our hips tight and our leg movements in sync while our lips almost touch. Then he kisses me, really kisses me, bending me back, and the cheer is so loud, it's deafening.

"Viva gli sposi!" Emmett calls out to the crowd who echo it back. "Per cent'anni! For a hundred years!"

They're still clapping as we find our places at the table. We don't have a separate table for the wedding party. We are right in the middle of the longest tables I've ever seen. A rumble of thunder makes everyone look outside. It's raining on the other side of the lake, and there's a rush to pack up the games and bring them under cover.

Joe turns up the music to a collective "Ah," as Dean Martin sings, "That's Amore." People lean into each other, swaying back and forth in their seats, singing the Italian version while passing baskets of bread. After studying the seating plan, I now see where they all fit in the family and understand why it's easier to refer to each other as a cousin or aunt or uncle.

Red wine is already on the table, but the waiters offer to pour chilled white as well. I ask for another Prosecco. It's my wedding, and I think I'll do better if I don't mix my drinks. Nonna pours water for me, and we smile at each other. She looks just as pleased as I am to see this coming together.

"What happened when you came in, Alice?"

Nonna answers. "It was nothing. She stumbled, and Jasper caught her. That's all." I see Alice close her eyes briefly as if she's embarrassed.

"You okay?" I whisper, and she nods, offering no other response.

Uncle Joe says grace in Italian, and people cross themselves before the music and conversation resume. Jason Mraz, singing "Lucky" makes Edward chuckle and kiss my hair. It does feel like Laurent is here with us, hearing his kind of music.

Our antipasto of prawns and fish is beautifully presented with shaved vegetables, surrounded by decorative swirls of seafood sauce. There are two prawns facing each other in the center, forming the shape of a heart. Dad is seated next to me and doesn't try to contain his enthusiasm for the dish, finishing quickly and leaning back.

"What date are you back in London?" Mom asks.

"July 6th. Why?"

"Can we stay at the pub while you're gone?"

 _They're coming to London!_

Edward answers for us. "Of course you can! What are your plans?"

Mom responds. "We have Wimbledon tickets for July 1st. It's only round two, but they're Centre Court seats. We've been looking at day trips mostly, hoping Bella might like to show us around the city when you come back."

"How about that game of golf at St. Andrews, Edward?" Dad asks.

"Uh… Scotland's a long way to go for two days, Charlie."

"What if we drive up and you fly?"

Emmett interrupts. "Excuse me, gentlemen. I will work so you can have time off. I still owe Bella for Christmas."

With a smile spreading over his face, Edward agrees. "Okay. Maybe we can test drive an Aston Martin and a Ferrari at Silverstone on the way up."

Dad nods, and I kiss my husband, then happy dance in my chair. It's going to be so much fun showing them _my_ London.

Looking around, I see two of the aunties smirking at me, and I smile right back. Even the server finds my behavior amusing as he sets down a plate of pasta, but I don't care. I'm salivating from the aroma and the glossy sauce that comes from the perfect combination of cream and white wine. Savoring the first delicious mouthful, I hum, knowing I'm going to beg Liam to teach me how to make this dish.

We move around for a while and speak to our guests. Liam is in deep conversation with Maggie, but they turn around as we pass by them. I notice his name tag is correct, so someone made a switch because they weren't seated together on the list.

Valentina stands when we approach and wants a selfie with us for Instagram. She says she loves my dress, and I'm hugging her, thanking her for her help today, when there's a commotion outside.

"What the hell?" Edward takes off outside. Jasper is shoving another boy's shoulder, and Edward steps in to break them up. I can't hear what he says, but the group comes in immediately, except for Alice who stays with her brother. Jasper is seething when he goes back to his place at the table.

I don't want to draw attention to something Edward has already diffused, so I keep moving and join my aunty and cousins who are chatting to the priest. After a few minutes, Edward appears as if nothing happened, and Alice goes to Jasper.

As the sky darkens, flickering candles appear on the tables, and all of a sudden, a gust of wind brings the rain with it. It runs over the plastic roof like being in a car wash, and we all look up. It's not heavy, so no one makes a move to close the walls, but now it's actually raining on our wedding.

With flashes of lightning and thunder all around us, we go back to the table. I look at Edward nervously, but he squeezes my hand and tells me to ignore it.

"What happened outside?" I ask quietly.

He shakes his head and sighs. "The boy goes to the same school as Alice, and he made a joke of her fall, then criticized her speech, saying her Italian sucks. When he called her a weirdo, Jasper decided to belt him. I don't blame him, really."

"Oh, boy. I would not want to be a teenager again for the world."

"Me neither."

Eventually the rain subsides enough for them to bring in the main dishes, and the servers ask if we prefer fish, chicken, or veal. I request the veal, remembering how tender it was, served with lightly seared mushrooms. There are baby potatoes, prosciutto wrapped asparagus, and steamed vegetables to accompany each dish. They refill the baskets of bread and refresh everyone's drinks. I'm getting full, and knowing there's fruit, tiramisu, and wedding cake still to come, I cut a piece and feed it to Edward. He closes his eyes, having already finished his fish, so I quickly swap plates with him.

Joe announces, "Il padre della sposa. The bride's father will now speak."

"That's me." Dad gets up from his chair, taking his drink up front and accepting the microphone from Joe. Dad won't have any nerves about this. He has given press conferences and spoken in public for as long as I can remember.

"I am sorry I don't speak Italian, but I'm happy to be here before you in this magnificent location, surrounded by the warmth of your family. My job is to tell you something you might not know about the bride and groom."

Allowing the ripple of laughter to settle, he starts. "It's very satisfying being proud of your child when she's grown up and made a wonderful life for herself. Bella has brought Renee and I nothing but joy since she was born and never a moment of trouble. Her grades were always good. She took part-time jobs and helped around the house. She kept us in her life when she went off to college.

"Yet our daughter had a goal that never changed, so we always knew we would lose her. I personally think it was reading all those Harry Potter books when she was eleven, but something made her determined to travel and work in London, and all we could do was support her and watch it happen. Bella is tenacious, and she doesn't give up until she achieves what she wants. Although I miss her every day, I'm pleased she lives in a world so much larger because we didn't try to stop her.

"Now..." He looks around. "...to the groom."

There is chatter and more laughter. I take Edward's hand because I have no idea what Dad is going to say. Edward starts spinning my wedding ring again as if he's nervous.

"I'm going to be completely candid and say I did not trust the young man who called our home, claiming to be a friend of my daughter's. Edward said he didn't have her new phone number, and I was wary. See I'm a cop, and everyone's a suspect, especially when it comes to my daughter.

"So… he left me his number, and I didn't pass it on right away. Now I feel sorry I made him wait, but I had never heard of him, and I didn't know he was important. Bella had never had a serious boyfriend before, so we were surprised when he popped up in London and started filling her conversations.

"It wasn't until he arrived on our doorstep in Seattle, ready to propose marriage, that I witnessed how much he loves her. Edward is fearless when it comes to Bella, and he proved he's not afraid to be honest. I'd like to say we bonded over a game of golf, but the truth is I had already recognized him as the kind of man I want as my son-in-law, and after a year, I now consider him my son. I know Carlisle thinks the world of Edward, and I'm sure his mother must be looking down, just as proud of her child as I am of mine.

"It has been a pleasure for Renee and I to get to know Edward's family—Carlisle, Siobhan, Alice, Goia, and now Joey, Mary, and Valentina. It's comforting to know he and Bella have their support when they are living so far away.

"I'm very honored to propose a toast to the bride and groom."

"Viva gli sposi," Emmett stands, repeating the toast three times.

"The groom... Edward?" Dad asks.

Edward sighs and kisses my hand before standing. He puts on his jacket as goes up. Dad embraces him, and I touch my eye, stopping a tear from spilling out. With the microphone in his hand, he smiles as he looks around the room.

"I don't speak Italian. I know I should have learned, but I didn't. I didn't do a lot of things until I met the girl over there who agreed to marry me.

"Thank you, Charlie. It's funny you say I'm fearless because I was terrified meeting you... but you and Renee gave me a chance to prove I was serious about Bella, and I'll always be grateful for that. We know it was a long way to come for the wedding, but you both being here has made our day complete. It's been great seeing my family again, and I want those of you who've come from other parts of the country, the United States, and Britain to know we truly appreciate it.

"Thank you to my sister, Alice, and our good friend, Tanya, for your help in supporting Bella as bridesmaids. You're both beautiful on the inside and out. Jasper is… someone I'm getting to know. I don't tell him because I don't want him to get ahead of himself, but he may have the most potential of all of us. Emmett… he's like a brother. He has done more for me than I can ever repay.

"To Dad and Siobhan and Joey and Mary, I can't thank you enough… for everything… and Nonna... we could not have had this wedding without you. One of the best things about this whole thing has been finding out how much I love and respect my grandmother."

Nonna turns and looks at me with tears in her eyes. Edward waits a while before he continues.

"People say you will know when you meet your one true love.

"I know I did.

"They say you put your best foot forward when it happens.

"But I didn't.

"They don't tell you what to do when you don't feel worthy, when you have nothing to offer... so I let my one true love go and be who she was supposed to be. We would not be here today if we'd stayed together back then.

"On my own, I knew she had changed me forever. I was striving to do better, be a better person, even if I never saw her again. Bella's greatest gift was making me believe that dreams can become reality, and she's still doing it two years later. My reality is just like a dream."

Looking directly at me, he says, "I promise you, Isabella, to keep improving, so one day I _am_ that man who is worthy of you."

The tiniest smile appears and fades before he self-consciously looks around again.

"That's it." He turns the microphone off, places it on the table, and comes back. Someone sighs loudly and heavily. I hear a few sniffles. People start to clap, and others join in. He looks at me, and I smile, touching his face.

There are only a handful of people here who could know what he's talking about. The best thing is that our parents are among them.

I stare at him, really studying his features: extraordinary black lashes and stirring green eyes, sunburn on his forehead, gold in his hair. As I trace the line of his jaw, I can't help seeing his beauty eclipsed by a rare view of what's inside, shining through words that came from his heart.

"Thank you," I say cupping his cheek with my hand. He covers it with his own.

"I mean it, my love. I will become that man."

He doesn't realize. "Oh, Edward... you always were."

Breathing out deeply, he says, "I need to kiss you so badly right now."

Folding my arms around his neck, I take the lead and kiss him. He pulls me so close, I'm teetering on the space between our two chairs.

The sound of tinkling glass brings us out of our bubble.

Emmett taps the microphone to make sure it's working. "Scuzzi, le sposi are often like this. They get caught up in each other and forget everyone else. Edward and Bella have the kind of love that makes people jealous. I see it every day. He moves, she moves. His face lights up when he sees her. I don't know if she realizes, but he watches her from afar. He's never himself when she's gone.

"Can I understand it? Sure I can. I watched them fall in love before either of them knew it was happening. To everyone else, they were friends, but I saw Edward when he talked about her. Getting to know Bella, I found a loyal friend who loves fiercely, perfect for Edward because he's exactly the same.

"Edward and I met three years ago and became instant friends. We were working on an island resort in those days, and I saw how capable he was from the start. I gave him one of the toughest jobs on the resort, the role of staff barman, and I may have been his superior, but I never had to be his boss. Last year, he hired me to manage his London pub, supposedly to learn from my experience, but there's nothing I can teach him.

"Edward has the gift of knowing his customers and exceeding their expectations. He draws the very best people around him, Bella included. He creates a working environment where his staff feel like family, and it shows when his customers bring back their friends to enjoy his hospitality. With someone like Bella at his side, these two are going to be a huge success, and I will always be glad I was around when they got started.

"Just as important, Edward has shown me that a man can still be a man and have a soft side for a woman. Ed, I thank you for that."

He raises his glass. "To Bella and Edward."

"Bella and Edward," they all say as they join in the toast.

Emmett McCarty often acts like a joker, but I know how much he's done for Edward. I just hope he realizes how much we appreciate him so he doesn't want to leave, thinking Edward doesn't need him.

He returns and sits down, taking Tanya's hand. He and Edward look at each other across the table, and Edward says, "Thank you, Em."

Emmett returns with, "No, thank _you_ , Ed."

 ** _Thanks for reading xo_**


	32. Chapter 32

**_Hadley managed to get an internet connection so here's the rest of the final chapter! Love you lady!_**

 ** _To Nic and VampyreGirl86, I'll see you at the end with my sincerest apologies._**

* * *

 **Chapter 32**

We eat mouthfuls of tiramisu, listening to another favorite of Laurent's. The song by Craig David and Sting is smooth and relaxing, making me feel dreamy as I lean against Edward. I love the soundtrack to my wedding, and I will call Laurent tomorrow to acknowledge the care he's taken over his choices.

When the song changes to David Bowie's "This Is Not America," we smile at each other, and I'm watching Emmett move to the music when the man who will assemble our mille foglia wedding cake walks in. He appears in full chef's uniform with the first layer of pastry on a round flat platter. We go over and watch him pipe bursts of chantilly cream to cover the pastry, and people come closer to view the master in action. After a layer of chopped strawberries and blueberries, his assistant brings out the next pastry layer, and he carefully eases it on top, repeating the process. By the time he's dusting the top with powdered sugar, many of the wedding guests have assembled to witness his creation. I already know how good it tastes, but there's nothing like seeing him put it together.

Edward feeding me delicious cake is quite an experience. Having him kiss the stray cream from my lips is a little too sexual with an audience of a hundred. Someone cuts a piece of cake and wraps it up for the priest, who is catching a ride back to Stresa with the chef. He apologizes, but the next mass is at six. I'm amazed it's already so late.

Edward signals to Joe. "You ready to dance?" he asks, running his hand down my arm.

"With you, sir? Anytime."

Joe announces us, and we walk hand in hand to the dance floor as the familiar jazz starts to play. There was never another choice for our wedding dance—it was always going to be "Moondance". Edward touches my cheek and kisses me, then his hand finds its place on my hip. Each movement, each breath etches itself into my memory. The way his body feels against mine, his warmth, his cologne, is all part of the dance. I gaze into his eyes, and he kisses me again. When I lean my cheek on his shoulder, he tells me he loves me and holds me tight. I let him lead, so in love with this moment, this day, this life we have together. I don't want it to end.

Our parents are the first to join us, followed by our wedding party, and then Dad wants to cut in. I understand that he should dance with his daughter, but I'm reluctant to leave Edward's arms. Seeing Edward dance with Mom _does_ make me happy.

Then it starts.

Nonna suggested the song, saying our guests would expect it. Focusing on the name, "C'e La Luna Mezz'o Mare," at the time, I thought a song about the moon in the middle of the ocean sounded romantic, and I agreed without hearing it.

Only last week, she informed me of what happens when it plays, and now I have to accept the satin bag she ties around my waist.

Men rise from their seats and come to us with their arms raised. They call to each other and take over the dance floor, like a pack of hoodlums, singing and clapping to the rhythm, moving their shoulders, their hips, and their feet back and forth. If I didn't know what this was, I'd be scared of them.

The first male breaks away from the group and intimidates us enough for Dad to hold me close, but it's all part of the show. The man says, "Senore Swan," and they smile at each other. When he bows with respect, Dad lets me go, and the man kisses me on both cheeks, then raises an envelope in the air. All his cohorts cheer, and once the envelope is in the bag, he leads me to dance.

Another man approaches, and I look over at Edward who has Carlisle talking in his ear. He's watching this closely, even though we both know it's just tradition. I'm somewhat relieved when women join us, smiling and clapping.

From that moment on, I'm passed from one man to another who kiss me and dance after placing their envelopes in the bag. Nonna has to come back and empty it twice before they let me go, exhausted and overwhelmed when she unties it and ends the ordeal.

I don't get a chance to rest because the Tarantella follows, and everyone gets up to dance. We thought we understood the simple steps, and how to move on to the next partner, but they all do their own thing, out of sync with each other. It doesn't seems to matter if there's a big ring of people or just half a dozen, so I just grab a neighboring arm and hope for the best. Children join in, already knowing the dance, and others learn in the arms of their parents.

I like the way the Tarantella brings the whole wedding together, but I cheer with my hands in the air, alongside everyone else, when it's over. I've had enough. I need a glass of Prosecco and bare feet for a while. As I walk away, Edward stops me, pulls a chair out and asks me to sit. Leaning down, he asks, "Are you wearing a garter?"

"Yes, I am," I answer, seeing a new group of men assemble and jostle for position. Edward kneels down and holds my ankle, waiting for them to behave.

"You know I must find it. If I don't, they will want your shoe."

"My shoe?"

"Yes, the bachelors must have a token."

I'm feeling complacent when I answer. "I _am_ wearing a garter."

"Right, well, let's find it, shall we?" he asks with a devilish grin, sliding his hand up my leg. Never breaking eye contact, I don't give away the fact that he's chosen the wrong thigh. I also don't react when his fingers touch my panties and linger there. He shakes his head slowly at the men as if he can't find the garter, and they all encourage him, having no idea what he's up to under my dress.

Pulling his hand out, he takes hold of my shoe. "Are you sure?"

Confidently, I state. "You are not taking my shoe." When he raises an eyebrow, I instantly regret challenging him. Without hesitating, he plows into the tulle, moving it all away so he can see what he's doing. Leaning forward, he kisses me while he slides the garter down, then keeps on kissing me like he's forgotten he's kneeling between my legs in the middle of our wedding.

I'm the one who has to break away and draw his attention to the people waiting while the garter hangs loosely around my ankle. He takes it off, and without really looking, flicks it in the direction of the men, right into Liam's hand. Everyone cheers, and Edward smiles, pulling me up to stand and giving me one final kiss.

Alice has my bouquet ready and helps smooth all the ruffled up tulle of my dress.

The group of females in front of me contains my two best friends and my boss. Then Mary drags Siobhan over to join them. I can't look, can't show I have favorites, so I turn to face the lake and smile, seeing blue sky. Edward was right again—the weather did not ruin our wedding.

"Uno, due, tre." I throw it behind me and turn around. Compared to Edward's rapid flick of the garter, the bouquet seems to sail in the air for ages, and I can't immediately tell which hand grabs it. When I do see, I feel like I should have known it would be Maggie.

She looks slightly embarrassed and laughs when she comes over to give it back. "Thanks for inviting me, Bella. This wedding is a delight." Tanya follows her, looking less enthusiastic, and I try to console her with an arm around her shoulders.

"Wanna dance?" Emmett asks, still full of energy.

"Can I please sit down for five minutes?" Tanya looks beat, mirroring the way I feel.

"How about you, Maggie? Will you dance with me?"

"I'd love to." She takes his arm, and they disappear into the crowd.

The two of us grab the opportunity to plonk down together, and I sigh. "Being a bride in Italy is a serious workout."

Just as we're enjoying an ice-cold glass of Prosecco, Liam stands in front of me with his hand out. "Dance with me, Bella." I give him a whiny look, and he says, "Come on. When will we get another opportunity to dance at your wedding?"

I slip my feet back into my shoes. "You're right. I'll nurse my feet tomorrow."

When I stand and take his hand, he says, "How does Laurent pick the music? God, I love this song."

"I've never heard it before."

"You don't know 'Free'?" I shake my head as he moves and sings along with the song. "Seal was huge in England… but this was probably released when I was your age."

Edward is dancing with one of his "cousins," and when he sees me watching him, he lifts his eyebrows and grins. He's having the time of his life, even if his bride did bail out on him.

"So, what's she like?" Liam looks over at Maggie, dancing with Emmett.

I have to tease him. "She?"

"Your boss, Bella."

"Didn't you spend the night with her? I heard you didn't come home."

A smirk appears on his face. "Nothing happened."

"Liar."

"I get the impression she's only showing me her good side. Is she a bitch at the magazine?"

"I'll tell you if you tell me who switched places at the table."

"Uh, that might have been me."

I shake my head at him. "She's never been a bitch to me. I would not have invited her all this way just because she's my boss. She and Charlotte have been amazing."

"Charlotte is wary of me."

"She's protective of Maggie. I thought you were aloof when I first met you."

"Now you're the liar."

"No, it wasn't until you opened up about your mother that I got to know you."

He tips his chin toward Siobhan, who is laughing. "They're happy together, aren't they?" She and Carlisle are dancing close to Ben and Ang who is animatedly relating some story and giggling.

"Maybe we'll end up as in-laws, Liam."

"Maybe we already are."

When I hear the other Andrea Bocelli track, I look around for Edward but can't find him. Then he's behind me. "Sorry, Mac, but she's dancing with me for this one."

Liam snorts and bows before leaving. Edward slides his hand around me and says. "I've been watching you. Your dress is exquisite."

"Grazie," I respond, uplifted by the compliment and the song. Bocelli's voice, overlaying violins and piano in a new sexy beat, brings couples to the floor.

"We should learn to samba, baby."

"We should." Liam was a good dancer, but being in Edward's arms feels like home. Holding the back of his neck and letting his hips lead me is fabulous, maybe even as good as our wedding dance.

We only get one more song before Joey interrupts, saying he's taking a boatload of people back to Stresa. I've hardly spoken to Edward's great aunts and uncles, but they assure me they've enjoyed themselves very much.

Families with small children are next to go, followed by those travelling back to Milan for work in the morning. A wave of people goes within a short space of time.

Inside the tent, there's a faster pulse with the crowd jumping up and down to Second City, Clean Bandit, and Tinie Tempah. I appreciate the music, but I have no wish to join in, happy for Alice and Jasper to represent us.

People have brought chairs to the terrace, enjoying the fresh evening air, cleansed by the storm. Some have plates of food, so I venture inside, finding Nonna and Mom serving leftovers. The living areas are full of people having coffee and cake. Checking the fridge, I find it's jam packed with food from the caterers. They've left a couple of coolers as well. Excellent—we don't have to worry about food for days.

I bring Edward a whiskey and a glass of Prosecco for myself. He smiles and wants me to sit in his lap. Finally, we can talk to our guests without having to fulfil any more obligations, but it's bittersweet because our day is drawing to an end.

Just before dark, there's another mass exodus of weary-looking people clutching their bombonieres. Once again, Charlotte and Peter have no idea where Maggie and Liam have gone.

After seeing them off, Edward and I go to check out our message hearts that now fill the frame. He picks up a heart and writes "love" on both sides, dropping it in. I write "love" on one side and "more" on the other, showing him before it goes in. I'm continuing our texts from last night.

He pulls me to him and kisses me. "We'll fight it out later, alright?" I'm kissing him when the others come into the tent. With only those staying here and our immediate families left, we can relax and talk about our favorite moments from the day. There are some great photos already up on Instagram.

Alice brings us a box and tells us we have to sit down to see what's inside. With that introduction, I open it carefully with some trepidation.

Her wedding gift is a photo book with a cover that reads "Edward and Bella - Part 1." Inside are images of Edward and I from the time we were born. The left hand page is his and the right side is mine. He saw most of my photos in Seattle, but it's the first time I've seen Esme, her eyes so similar to Edward's, smooching the cheeks of her infant son.

"Do you still have the old photos, Dad?" Edward asks, tracing his finger over an image of his baptism with Lake Maggiore in the background.

"Of course, and now Alice has scanned them all."

I squeal when I recognize the kitchen we ripped out at the pub. Carlisle's arms are wide, encouraging a very cute little Edward, who looks like he's learning to walk. There are vacation pics in Stresa, showing Edward's grandfather, with Nonna at his side, wearing a large hat and sunglasses. They look like a very happy couple.

My first photo is me as a baby. Dad has his arm around Mom, and they're both staring at me. Then I'm a toddler, placing an ornament on our Christmas tree. There's one of me as a small child on a pony at a fair. An image from my first day of school shows a backpack that swamped me. Dad is crouching down, looking worried, while I have my hand on his shoulder, probably telling him I'm ready for them to leave now. I can still remember parts of that day.

Edward leans his chin on my shoulder as I get to see the magnificent house Carlisle built, shots of Edward at Little League, his friends from school, and a day spent on Lake Michigan with Uncle Joe's family, including Edward's cousin, Tony. Their life in Chicago looked very normal back then. Esme is pregnant in one of the shots, and then a sister is born. Another baptism follows, a photo taken inside the church with our priest looking much the same as he did today. Joey and Mary are there with Valentina, and Carlisle explains they were godparents to each other's girls.

Sadly, there is only one more page where Esme features in the photos. Edward is with Alice during this stage of his life. It's mostly images of the two of them: a day in the city, on a train, at a baseball game, and pictures of him reading to her.

We move on to school dances where we both look awkward, like we'd rather be anywhere else. He rolls his eyes when I ask about the attractive girl wearing a wrist corsage.

From here, our lives take different paths. My side is dorms, campuses, and graduation pictures. Edward's shows him working at various hotels.

"Did I send these to you?" he asks Carlisle.

"Yes, I kept every email, son."

"Shit," Edward whispers, making me wait before I can turn the page.

Edward is now on the island, shaking a cocktail mixer in the main bar. There's one of the room he and Emmett shared in Slink and then their upgrade to the Caravan. I grin when I see myself in some of Edward's photos, just as he's in mine. A tanned version of Tanya and Emmett are in many of our shots. I wonder if Alice chose not to include any of Rosalie.

We reach the time when we were parted. He's in Jacksonville, surrounded by people in dive gear. There are a couple of their Christmas in Chicago. Mine show the highlights of a vacation in Europe.

Then we come to an image of the pub before Edward started knocking walls down. Another shows Carlisle and Emmett working together. There's one of Edward, standing proud in his deep-sea diving suit, holding a huge helmet with a thumbs up. There's even the photo the waiter took of us when we had dinner at the Shard. Seeing the group we assembled the day we opened the pub makes me grin.

These are all images we sent home, so both families have been involved in the album's creation. Photos I've never seen before show Dad and Edward playing golf, drinking beer together, and having lunch in Seattle. After the double page of the day we married, there are no separate pages in the book.

There are pictures of us in Stresa last year, when we thought we were bringing Alice back to London. Instead, the photos show the reasons I fell in love with this place: the magnetic pull of the lake, a hotel with a five-star view that needed a master builder's touch, a brother and sister on a toboggan ride.

"Remember we wondered what your story would be, Bella?" Carlisle asks, and I nod, remembering the day at Somerset House when we watched Alice in the fountains. "This is the first part of the story of you and Edward."

With tears pooling, I respond. "This is such a special gift. Thank you all for this, really."

Edward is zoning out, going back to the beginning of the book, and I wonder how long it's been since he last saw these photos.

The appearance of a sleepy Valentina spells the end of the night. Mary and Siobhan go inside to collect their purses, and Mom makes a quiet announcement. "Your father has something for you."

"Edward?" He seems startled when I call his name and then gets up. I open the envelope Dad gives me with a heart drawn on it. Inside is the record of a transfer of twenty-thousand dollars into my account.

My eyes bug out, and Mom says, "We agreed years ago we'd give you ten-thousand, and we haven't contributed to the wedding." I'm overcome by their generosity, embracing them both.

"Spend it on my daughter," Dad suggests to Edward, who's just as taken aback as I am.

"I will, Charlie. I'll spoil her rotten."

Dad smiles and taps Edward's back. The others open their arms for a hug before they go while Jasper and Alice say an awkward goodbye. He ends up kissing her cheek, and she touches the spot with a finger, a blush appearing as she leaves.

"See you tomorrow," I call out when Carlisle unties the boat.

"Thank you!" Edward adds as his arms wrap around me.

"Bye, guys," Emmett sings out to them, and then he and Tanya wander back.

It's quiet on the lake once the sound of the motor fades. Waves lap our beach, and the edges of stray clouds glow in the moonlit sky.

I turn to the breathtaking sight of the villa and tent with the full moon above. "The moon will be over the lake soon, Edward."

I feel him nod, but he doesn't respond, still gazing after Joey's boat. Has he forgotten he wanted our wedding to coincide with the full moon? This is not the man who sent me text after text, living a whole month through the phases of the moon.

Turning in his arms, I touch his hair. "Are you okay?"

"Was that a good wedding? It went by too fast."

"Yes, it was the best wedding—good food, great music, dancing, and wonderful company. I loved the speeches, yours in particular."

He sighs. "Let's not talk about my speech. It didn't go according to plan."

"Why? You thanked everyone, and I thought you were brave. What you said was very personal…"

"I need to learn to speak Italian."

"I agree. We both should, but is that why you didn't like it?"

"Bella, not tonight."

I don't know why he thinks it's okay to shut down a conversation when it suits him. It's becoming tiresome now. I've been as patient as I can, knowing he will talk to me eventually, but right now I could scream at him.

Maybe he senses my frustration. He opens his mouth as if he's going to speak, but nothing comes out. I wait and then walk ahead, disappointed again.

Inside the tent, everything looks good enough to leave as it is. Tanya and Emmett have obviously blown all the candles out. Edward picks up the photo book, and I grab my phone before he turns off the lights. His face lights up in a smile as he finally notices the moon above us.

Once we're in our room, I look for the bag where I put the tickets and the watch. Then I realize I took it into the bathroom this morning.

"I want to give you your wedding present. I'll be right back."

The cool tiles soothe my feet, and I decide to remove my makeup and freshen up a little. Then I take all the pins from my hair.

The excitement of seeing his reaction is squashed as soon as I come out of the bathroom. Edward is crying, sitting cross-legged on the bed, the photo book open in his lap. He wipes his tears with the back of his hand, and my heart breaks as I sit down beside him.

"I blew an opportunity today. I was supposed to talk about my mother in my speech." He rubs his hand over his face, and I hesitate to comfort him physically because we are crossing into unknown territory. "What the fuck is wrong with me? I should be able to say I miss her, that I'm sorry she wasn't here today."

"Says who?"

"What?"

"Are there rules on how you're supposed to handle grief? I don't think so."

"Oh, it's way more than just grief. I've had rage I'm scared to let out."

"I'm pretty sure it doesn't go away if you keep it inside."

"I never cried at her funeral. It didn't seem real. Everyone must have been in shock because they were all quiet."

 _Oh, my God, he is going to open up._

"We came here with her ashes, not Alice, just Dad and me and Joe, and everyone was bawling in the church. We only stayed a few days and came home feeling numb."

"Restarting your life without your mother… I can't imagine it."

"I'm so fucking sure Alice was normal before it happened that sometimes I think Dad and I were the reason she stopped speaking. She probably thought silence was normal."

"You didn't talk about it."

He shakes his head. "He sent me to grief counseling twice. Apparently, I didn't say anything. I don't remember."

"You were only twelve."

"I knew if I started, he would find out how angry I was. Halfway through school vacation, he went back to work and left me with a toddler. Then I was the one who had to pick Alice up from daycare while my friends went to baseball practice, and they dropped me from the team. I hated the fucking situation, and I hated him."

I know he never really hated Carlisle. He's hitting a sledgehammer through the wall he's built up, and I'm ready to see this through with him.

"All we ever talked about was schedules and chores. Mom went to work too, but she handled so many things we both took for granted. She left a really big hole."

"She was the center of everything."

"Yeah... and just when we were getting on top of things, the daycare suggested we have Alice assessed, so we had to take her to specialists and so many tests. After that, our lives revolved around early intervention and therapy."

"You had no support."

He snorts. "For some reason, my parents thought it was a good idea to go to the other side of the world to raise their children. Uncle Joe's family was struggling too. They both worked, and their kids weren't much older than Alice. We should have come here to Nonna."

"But you didn't."

"High school was a nightmare, repeating the same story. A new person would start in the office, and I'd get, 'You need both parents' signatures, or you have to attend.' I got sick of explaining why I couldn't do extracurricular— it was easier to just sign on Mom's behalf.

"Dad would ask things like, 'We're okay, aren't we?' and I'd have to agree when he was still so… devastated. He coped by going to work and providing for us, but he wasn't the same. We did have our good times, and Alice and I have a stronger bond because of what happened. It's just… fuck… A junkie, needing money to score, shot Mom ten feet from the car, so what did I do? I sold drugs and bought a gun with the money. When Charlie said she would be proud of me… I choked. I didn't even mention her."

"But she _would_ be proud of the man you are today. I'm proud of you. Hell, I married you."

He gives me a sweet smile and touches my cheek. "Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"I feel the same."

"Be honest. You thought I was scum when you met me."

"I did not. I knew you were dangerous. It was one of the things that attracted me." Now he looks surprised, so I smirk, and he shakes his head, leaning back against the headboard and stretching out his legs. "It was living on the island, the fact we couldn't get away from each other that made me get to know you. If we had met in Seattle, I would not have given you my phone number."

He nods as if he already knew this. "You know that drug raid did us a favor. If we'd had a relationship then, I'd be in jail, and you'd remember me as the guy who stopped you from going to Europe."

"Or... you might have stopped dealing and come with me. You don't see yourself clearly. You say things like you're not worthy while I think you're the catch of the century." He breaks into laughter, like a huge release of stress. I touch his hair, and he takes my hand, kissing my palm.

Pulling me into his arms, he groans. "Thank you."

I wait until he lets go, then I kiss him. "Are you ready for your wedding present?"

He sits up, and I hand it to him. "What's it going to be this time, babe? I love your envelope presents."

"Open it." I command and watch his face. He pulls out the brochure I made, showing a map of Northern Ireland and a short itinerary. There's an incredible photo of the Slieve Donard Resort and Spa there to impress him. He pulls out the two tickets and reads them carefully, then his mouth gapes open. "Van Morrison in Ireland?"

"Yeah."

"Van Morrison in Ireland! Come here!" He hugs me so tight, I struggle to breathe, but I don't mind because my Edward is back.

"It's not midnight yet, but I want to give you your birthday present now."

It's a rather large box for a watch, and he opens it, only giving it a cursory glance before he looks into my eyes. "Did he really tell you about the watch?"

"Who?"

"Dad… Did he tell you?"

"No. I don't know what you're talking about."

"They had a watch for my birthday that year—a Swatch. I saw a Swatch ad and told Mom I thought they were cool. Dad tried to give it to me a week after she died, and I told him I wouldn't take his stupid gift, that I was never having another birthday."

Quietly, I respond, "I honestly didn't know," and wait, hoping he'll continue.

"The thing is, I should have put that fucking watch on my wrist and worn it proudly as the last thing she gave me. Instead, I told Dad I didn't want it. You really didn't know?"

Shaking my head, I fight back a wave of tears. "Don't beat yourself up over what you did when you were twelve."

With a little nod, he says, "So why a watch? I know you put a lot of thought into gifts."

I decide to be honest without going into why a clock face was important. "Nonna said she chooses not to remember your mother by the day she died. I'm hoping you'll wear this watch, and let it remind you to think of your Mom every day. She would want you to celebrate your birthday, Edward."

He takes the watch from its case and admires it. Snorting, he says, "The moon." Placing it on his left wrist, he fastens the watch. "Thank you. It's a gorgeous watch, Bella, and I get it. I will try, okay?" I throw my arms around his neck, so relieved and happy. He laughs and leans to the side, taking me with him. "I have something for you, too. As it happens, it's also about time."

He presents me with a ring case from the same jewelry store where we bought the engagement and wedding rings. "I had to have help." Now I know why Mom said they had several phone calls with him. He opens the case himself and takes the ring out, similar to my wedding ring, but this is a full band of diamonds. Holding the diamond of my engagement ring between his finger and thumb, he says, "This was my offer." Then he touches the wedding ring. "This was your acceptance." Sliding the new ring onto my finger, he adds, "And this is our forever."

We both stare at the rings. To me they look complete now, their almost-symmetry forming something important. Suddenly, I feel overwhelmed with emotion, and a tear runs down my cheek. "Forever is the best gift you can give me."

"I thought so, too, until Charlie gave me the ring. I can't guarantee the future, Bella. I don't know how long our forever will be."

Cupping his cheek, I realize why I love him. "Then we make the most of every day and take nothing for granted. We talk, we fight, we love. We keep our families in our lives, even if it's just a phone call to remind them we care, and we always remember that Esme and Carlisle Masen once had a forever that made you."

After a long exhale, his lips form a tiny smile, and he nods.

Now he's unlocked that first layer, details come through—things he says he had forgotten. The more he talks, the more I understand what he endured and why he gave up so much for his family. Each sentence seems to deepen my love. Him trusting me like this makes me want to look after him, protect him, and give him pleasure. I start on the buttons of his shirt and tell him to keep talking. His words hypnotize me, and I taste his skin as I undress him, starting with his neck, his shoulders, and his chest. His bare legs are magnificent. I ease them apart and kiss his erection. Moving my hair to one side, I let him see every lick, every suck, everything my fingers are doing. He doesn't speak any more, but his eyes burning and his chest heaving is enough.

"Slow down. Stop," he commands.

"Something wrong?"

"No," he answers through labored breaths. "You're bringing a fantasy to life, but it doesn't end with me coming like this."

He takes his time getting me naked, torturing me with erotic kisses, grazing my skin with his teeth, allowing emotion to temper the eagerness of his body. At the peak of our lovemaking, we hold onto each other, two hearts wildly beating together. He opens the curtains so we can relax and talk about our day as the moon moves through the sky.

* * *

The delicious smell of grilling fish stirs me from a sublime relaxation, a semi-conscious state that has infiltrated my whole being this week. Yes, I'm on vacation and lying in the sun, but this contentment has a lot to do with my newly carefree husband. Ever since our wedding night, he's been lighter, more talkative, more affectionate, more passionate. He keeps saying he feels better. He finishes his sentences without planning what comes out of his mouth. He laughs out loud more often, a sound I love to hear.

Two days after the wedding, Edward talked to his father, spending a few hours together on Joey's boat. He surprised me when he came back and recounted what they said to each other. They both apologized and accepted there were mistakes made on both sides, things they could have handled better. For the first time, they reminisced about their life with Esme.

Carlisle asked Edward to accept Siobhan as his partner.

Edward answered by saying he knew an awesome wedding planner.

"Babe, your backside is getting pink." Edward leans over me, dripping water on my back. Squinting, I find my sunglasses are boiling hot and half covered in sand, so I yawn and lower my cheek back to the towel. "Come on, girl, let's get you some food and shade,"

Through another yawn, I try to respond. "Why can't I have your skin? You're so brown already."

"Italian mother, my love. Come on. I want to try the grilled sardines before they run out again."

I get up and stretch, already used to being naked at this beach. This is our third day on Donoussa, and so far we've done nothing more than walk here or to town. We spend most of our time in bed. When we're not concentrating on each other, we can gaze out over the bluest of oceans to the island of Naxos. It's completely private inside, so we only have to wear clothes when we're out on the balcony. From there, we can watch the ferries come into the tiny port and see the activity around the whitewashed buildings of Stavros. At nighttime, the view is outstanding.

Edward pulls on his boardshorts, and I slip my beach dress over my head.

"You know, I've been thinking."

With Edward's mind freed of baggage, he's coming up with all sorts of ideas, especially after a long swim in the ocean.

"Okay."

"Tanya wants to keep the gallery going at the pub. I'm happy for that to continue, but my insurance doesn't cover the art she's storing there. She's running a business now, and it's up to her to protect her assets. She also needs to be around if she wants to sell the pieces she's displaying on the walls. The responsibility is not with my bartenders."

I agree, but I don't see where he's going. "So what are you proposing?"

"They move in, and Emmett takes control of the pub _and_ the gallery."

"Where do we go?"

"We swap. We live at Siobhan's. Dad is already talking about coming back to London. Now Britain has left the EU, no one knows when they'll ask them to leave the country. He needs a new project, and neither of them want to live in that home full of memories, so they're going to do it up to sell. I want to help him, Bella."

God, he's a handful. Is he going to be a bartender or builder?

"I also have an insanely good chef I'm wasting in a pub. What I want is a really great restaurant and Liam as my partner. Alistair would take over the kitchen at Covent Garden."

"Stop, I can't keep up. If they sell Siobhan's place, where do we live?"

"Well… that depends on how we go living with them. Dad has the money from the sale of our house in Chicago, and Siobhan will get phenomenal money for her place if we do it right. Dad thinks we could get a house that needs work and renovate for two million. Both couples put in a million, and they still have enough money to retire if they want."

"You want to live with them?"

"Yeah, if we find the right property. I want family around us. You need support and security if something happens to me."

I let that sink in before I react. I know he doesn't mean to upset me. He's speaking from bitter experience, and it will take him a long time to fully recover. I decide to nod and acknowledge, but I concentrate on the other things spinning in my head.

"What happens to Alice?"

"That's up to Dad. She's not fifteen yet, so she does what he says."

"How do we borrow a million pounds?"

"We don't. Dad puts it in our share, and we pay him back—no mortgage, no interest. It's a very good deal. At two grand a week, we'll pay it off in ten years."

I start to laugh at the amounts of money that roll off his tongue. "Don't say any more. I need to think."

"Okay. Want a beer?"

I nod and watch him walk to the bar. Buying a house in London—my wildest dreams would never have come up with that possibility—but do I want to live with my in-laws? He just said we could try it out it first, and Carlisle and Siobhan _are_ both people I admire. They didn't have any issues living with Joey and Mary. I guess if the house was big enough, we wouldn't have to live on top of each other.

Am I ready to accept London as my permanent home? Staring at the clear ocean in front of us, I have to admit that a two-hour flight to places like this is very appealing, and we've still hardly seen anything of the U.K.

There's also the fact that Edward no longer has ties with the U.S.

My suntanned husband sits down and hands me a bottle of Volkan. When he looks at his new watch and smiles, I know I'm going to say yes. I love him.

"When would all this happen?"

He opens his hands. "Realistically? A year, maybe two before the new house is ready. We might want to start a family by then. Dad already said they would love some grandkids."

I smirk at him, imagining him as a dad. He's seen a lot in his life, and he knows firsthand how easy it is for a teenager to make a bad decision and become trapped. He'd have lots of good advice. "Little Carl and Ezzy?"

He smiles and takes a mouthful of beer. Then in his best impression of Dad, he says, "Carl Masen. Now _he_ sounds like a fine upstanding young man."

I start to giggle. "Yeah, that name reminds me of the man who processed my visa application in Seattle—a little OCD, formal, and appropriately dressed in gray—wielding his stamp like a weapon. That was less than twelve months ago, Edward, when you flew to Seattle to marry me."

He takes my hand and kisses it. "I was desperate. Losing you was not an option."

"Agreeing to that rushed proposal was the best decision I ever made."

"This was, without a doubt, the best year of my life. Let's see if we can make an even better one next year."

So much has happened in a year, it's hard to process. Along with the incredible memories that flood my brain, I think of all the things we have to look forward to: seeing Mom and Dad in London, driving to Scotland, our trip to Ireland. There's a possibility the meeting Maggie proposed for next week could lead to the kind of writing career I want. If not, I will work on it until I finish my contract. Then there's the excitement of a new restaurant, a future home, and babies. We'll have help with our kids, too. We may even be able to go out on dates. I have to say, the life he's offering is pretty attractive.

I touch my bottle of beer against his. "I'm in until we're old and gray."

His face bursts with a dazzling smile. "Me, too, baby, me, too."

THE END

 **The outtake from Edward's POV will post tomorrow and I'll mark this complete. If you bought the Fandom For Mental Health Compilation, you may have already read it. It covers the time from the drug raid on the island until he finally makes contact with Bella again.**

 **Dear Nic, Vampyregirl86 and Hadley,**

 **I'm sorry I led you astray when I said, "about seven chapters I think." It's not that you can't trust me... truly.**

 **I never set out to write such a long story. In the original one-shot about a criminal and a cop's daughter (bad mix, I know), I knew Edward wasn't a bad guy but there were not enough words to delve into it in a single chapter. Bella saw his good side, and that was enough. The expansion was supposed to be a record of my travels and some of the things I experienced along the way, knowing E &B would reconnect in London. I blame the British immigration system for railroading me with Bella's working visa - I didn't read the clause carefully where it said you had to apply from your normal place of residence. More chapters had to evolve - an unseen return to Seattle and a detour to Stresa to pick up Alice. Both families had entered the story now. One thing led to another after that and it somehow became thirty-two chapters. Oops.**

 **Thanks for reading, reviewing and pimping. This fandom has special people and I've loved talking with you.**

 **Let's hope for a more positive and peaceful 2017. Happy New Year.**

 **All my love to you,**

 **xo Compass**

Thank you for voting Island Nights into the Top 10 fics completed in December at www . twifanfictionrecs . com.

There are some great stories over there, so check them out.


	33. Chapter 33

_**This outtake is written from Edward's POV - from the time he was warned about the drug raid on the island until Bella called him from Europe.**_

 _ **Eternal thanks to Nic, VampyreGirl86 and Hadley for all your help.**_

* * *

 _ **Edward Goes Straight**_

I was dreaming of long silky hair when my phone started ringing—the ringtone assigned to my supplier. Trying not to wake Bella, I gently moved her arm and leaned over to answer the phone.

" _Are you awake?"_ he asked in his gravelly voice.

Swinging my feet to the floor, I sat up to answer him. "Kind of."

" _There's a team assembling here to pay you a visit."_

"Do you know why?" I asked, as a rush of adrenaline hit my chest. The police had never shown interest in the resort before.

" _Someone's got it in for you."_

Then it had to be _him_. I knew yesterday's confrontation would come back to bite me.

"Any idea what time?"

" _Just get out of there,"_ he said, coldly and calmly. _"Destroy the phone and SIM card. No more contact."_

"Okay, thanks." He'd already hung up before hearing my response.

My supplier was not a regular dealer, but he had access to the spoils from his job on the drug squad. He kept just enough aside without drawing attention and swapped it for cash he used to keep his wife happy. He trusted my market wasn't going to expand or cause him trouble, and he believed me when I told him why I needed the money.

This morning, he was covering both our asses when he called to tip me off about the raid.

I wasn't thinking straight when I hightailed it out of there, loaded with endorphins from the night with Bella. I was so in love with her, had been for ages, and the selfish part of me was glad I finally showed her and said the words. A man should have that kind of experience at least once in his life. The way she clung to me gave me hope it wouldn't be our last.

Scrambling to pack a bag, I jammed a wad of money in an envelope and wrote her name on it, forcing her to accept something from me without an argument. She had given me so much in our months together, and I wanted to thank her. The cash would give her a breather from her determination to save every penny she earned.

The hasty goodbye was surreal, dreamlike, but the barge was leaving, and I had to be on it.

I dropped the gun in the ocean halfway to the mainland. Once the barge docked, I looked back to the island, and the enormity of leaving was all around me in a world gone empty and quiet.

Until then, I had purpose, putting distance between my illegal activities and my girl. Bella knew nothing about the business end of my life, and her innocence would protect her. Not even Emmett knew where I scored. If the police did come and find drugs, it would only be a misdemeanor for the staff. If one of them turned me in as the supplier, enough people had seen me flee to lead the cops away from the island.

Now I had to get to Aro and end this thing quickly, for my own preservation as well as Bella's. Such a strong girl, she could have run screaming from me after what happened at the restaurant, but it was crazy how quickly she calmed down after her initial meltdown.

Knowing she was never in any real danger from those two goons, I thought I played a careful game, giving him the money he thought I'd cheated him out of, while warning him to stay away. Instead, he'd pushed me to the point where I wanted to kill him, a split second where everything about guns wasn't fucked up. Not knowing my enemy had backfired on me, and now I felt sick when I thought about it.

As I stared at the ocean, I saw the mistake I'd made. Aro had an ego that fed on respect, so I would have to approach him in a certain way to fix this.

Taking a chance by calling him on a phone I should have already destroyed, I asked him if he would accept my apology. He suggested we meet in person at a coffee place a street back from the main drag.

"I'll be there."

Hanging up, I found a rock and then hesitated, remembering the pictures I'd lose—a whole week of happiness gone. The fact I hadn't uploaded them when I had the opportunity ignited an anger that spread through me. With Bella's terrified eyes in my head, I smashed the phone into a thousand pieces. The bruises on her neck helped me pulverize the SIM card. Her face as I left brought a mixture of regret and shame, but I kept it together to gather all the pieces littered around. Some of them I buried deep in the sandy soil above the vegetation line. The rest I scattered in the dumpsters near the beach campground.

Catching the bus to the city, I gazed at the sea as the bus rocked its way north on the old highway, imagining my day if everything hadn't turned to shit. It could have been one of the best days of my life.

Someone said, "Cops," and a few people leaned over to get a look at the two police cars speeding south. I wondered why they chose to come by road when the only two ways over to the island were to wade out into the ocean and board the water taxi or to wait for the barge. It made me think they probably had nothing to do with me, since the smarter option would have been to fly them in. Perhaps the raid was low priority and not worth the expense.

After shoving my bag into a locker at the bus terminal, I walked to the cafe. The bodyguard was out front, and he stepped on his cigarette, frisked me on the sidewalk, then flashed the weapon strapped to his shoulder. He followed me inside and sat down at a table near Aro who was stirring a cup of steaming black coffee. I asked if it was okay to sit down, waiting for him to agree.

It was all there in front of me in his mannerisms, his cultural background. He'd never recognize it from the way I look, but half my family was Mediterranean, made up of men just like him, who lived to torment a half-blood kid from Chicago.

I learned friendly obedience quickly during our vacations in Stresa, and soon my mother's cousins were messing my hair and taking me out in their boats.

"You've come to apologize?" he asked, ready to hear me submit.

"Yes, I am ashamed of my behavior. I know I'm not in your class, and I still have a lot to learn."

With a smug look, he raised his fingers, and a cup of coffee appeared in front of me.

"The girl you supplied us was a disappointment."

"I understand. They were only waitresses and housemaids, making money on the side. The girl begged me to triple the price, so she wouldn't have to go through with it. We never expected your client to accept."

I heard a laugh and turned to see two uniformed cops enter the cafe. They'd come from their Dodge Charger parked across the street. With their sunglasses pushed up high on their heads, they looked weighed down by pouches and holsters hanging from their belts. Searching Aro's eyes, I found no reaction, but when I looked at the bodyguard, he smiled. They'd led me into a trap.

The cops stood at the counter and proceeded to talk about a game on Saturday. Aro leaned forward and said quietly, "You tried to kill me yesterday."

I watched for any sign they heard what he said over the noise in the cafe. Trying to hide the terror coursing through me, I ignored my coffee and gripped my thighs under the table. Concentrating on keeping my ass on the seat, I stared into the eyes of the asshole sitting opposite me who was enjoying this immensely.

As the cops continued talking, I replied, "It was a bluff. There were no bullets in the gun."

Aro's eyebrows raised as if he found this interesting. "You bluff well then."

"It's not something I'm proud of," I responded, never breaking eye contact. I was doing it now, assessing if there really was danger here when these were street cops, unlikely to be after me when no one else in this town knew me except one of their own.

When the cops walked out without a glance our way, Aro asked, "What are your plans?" I watched them get into the car and pull out.

"I have to disappear. The police are after me now." I didn't know that for sure, but I wasn't sticking around to find out. Fiddling with the button on his cuff, he nodded and looked to his guard.

Then he smiled, rising from his chair. "Look me up if you're ever in town. I may have something for you."

"We won't be back."

"Your lady friend?"

Without flinching, I answered, "She's coming with me."

"Good luck then," he offered, dropping a few bills on the table as another cop came in, greeting the barista in Spanish. The fucker had dropped me into the place they all came for their coffee, just to scare the shit out of me. I breathed out heavily and drained my own cup, relieved I'd survived and achieved what I set out to do. Aro wouldn't go looking for Bella, and our brief business relationship was over. He seemed satisfied he'd punished me sufficiently.

Suddenly I was free, having cut ties with the criminal world. Leaving the cafe, I felt like high-fiving the first person I saw. When I reached the bus terminal and saw the next bus was going to Jacksonville, it felt like a good omen. The city was big enough to hide me while I found an honest job.

Bella would be proud of me, but I couldn't risk telling her. It was better no one knew where I had gone.

I slept for a while on the bus, dreaming of Bella holding me in her arms, and woke up feeling the weight of her loss. Now I wished I had opened up to Bella and Emmett, my only good friends in the world, so they wouldn't remember me as just some two-bit criminal. Even as the miles distanced us physically, she was still in my head, encouraging me to make something of my life, and I felt that should happen before I contacted either of them again. I owed them that much.

* * *

The old RV park had trailers you could rent by the month. It wasn't much different from living in the Caravan. During the first few days in Jacksonville, I checked the paper for any news of the raid and found nothing. I bought the cheapest phone I could find and called the resort. Bella answered, not in her usual sunny voice, but she was still there working and okay, thank God. As soon as I heard her irritated sigh, I hung up, feeling so lonely and isolated I wanted to give up and go back.

My optimism started to fade. Jobs were scarce, and those available to someone like me paid minimum wage. Bar work would add tips, but I hadn't found a single vacancy. With no chance of sending money home, it felt like I'd stagnate until someone made me an offer of easy money I couldn't refuse.

Just as I was thinking of going home to Chicago and begging forgiveness, I saw the sign for a commercial diving school.

 _What had the barman on the island said? Unbelievable money, no qualifications required._

When I went in and inquired about the course, I almost laughed in the guy's face when he quoted the thirty grand I'd need to complete the certification. Instead of walking out right away, I asked about the money I could realistically earn. He told me about the elite end of the international industry and the heady amounts SAT divers received for working at extreme depths offshore. The school boasted lifetime work placement assistance for all graduating students.

I asked where the highest paid work was, and he advised me to look at the oil industry jobs in the Gulf of Mexico, Middle East, Asia/Pacific region and the North Sea. When I asked where that was, he said Scotland, but he cautioned that it was hard to break in as a foreigner unless you had a lot of experience. Most of the divers came from the U.K.

It was like I'd come full circle.

That's where I was born.

After I picked the man's brain, I hit the local library to research on their computer, thinking it was like scuba diving, but deep. After completing an open water diving course when it was briefly on offer at the resort, I toyed with the idea of becoming an instructor. That was until I found out the number of expensive courses I had to complete first, and gave up on the idea.

Laughing at my naivety, I saw this was something else, diving to hundreds of feet and staying on the bottom for the entire shift. I found the physics of saturation diving fascinating, watching videos showing the daily life of these men and women living and working under constant pressure. In Britain, they were earning a thousand pounds a day, more with experience, and it really didn't look like hard work.

I Googled other similar highly paid industries and had knots in my stomach seeing images of people working at extreme heights, some of them connected to the structure by a flimsy-looking strap or piece of rope. The idea of falling and dangling until someone came to the rescue was terrifying. That was definitely not for me.

It took two days to work up the courage to call my father for help, and two minutes of spilling my guts to realize he wasn't going to disown me. He kept saying this was all his fault and urged me to come home. When I explained my plan, he said he wanted to see for himself what the dangers were.

Dad flew in from Chicago and stayed for four days, four normal days with him I'd craved for such a long time. We toured the dive school facility and met some of the outgoing class. A few of them already had jobs, but none were going to the U.K. They all said the same thing—everything was geared to the diver's safety, but the work itself was much harder physically than it looked, and the PT during the course was brutal.

After a couple of beers at a local bar, I asked Dad outright if he could lend me the money. When he looked at me without answering, I didn't know what to think when he'd seemed genuinely open and interested all day.

"I'll find out about financial aid," I said, disappointed.

"I wanted you to go to college, son."

"I'm too old, Dad. I can earn a lot of money this way."

"Forget about the money, Edward," he said, shaking his head. "I'm the reason you're money- driven, but we are not your responsibility. It's time to think of yourself for a change."

"Then let me do this, even if I use it to finance something else."

"Like what?"

"I don't know yet, but I have dreams of my own business one day. Bella and I always…" When I stopped mid-sentence, his lips turned up into a smile. "Okay, I met a girl. She's the main reason I'm… trying something new."

"Women will do that," he advised, full of experience, when I was pretty sure he hadn't been on a date since Mom died. "I'd like to meet this girl. Is she here?"

"No, she's still on the island, saving for a vacation to Europe. Then she's going to work in London."

"Ah, so that's why you're asking everyone about the U.K.?"

I had to admit, the thought of seeing her over there was swaying me toward that part of the world. "Maybe, but I _am_ English after all."

"I spoke to the bank before I came down here. If you really want this, then I'll get you the money."

"Dad..."

Taking hold of my forearm, he cut me off. "I'm better now, Edward. I've pulled myself out of it, finally. We're going to be okay, Alice and I."

I hoped he was being honest because Dad wasn't okay when I left Chicago. He was depressed and drowning in money woes, so helping him financially was the only thing I could do.

* * *

Soon after he flew home, I managed to score a casual job as a bartender. I talked my way into the job, never doubting they'd hire me. It was less than a month before the dive course started, and the new me was ready for anything. In five months, I'd have a profession, something I could finally be proud of.

I went to the library to check out Bella's Facebook page and PM her. Reactivating my account, I smiled when I saw photos of little Alice from a time when she was my whole world. Lost for a while in a past that didn't seem so bad, I searched for my future in Bella Swan. That's when the here and now came crashing down around me.

At first, I couldn't tell what I was looking at. She was with a group of people and a police officer. Dressed in cap and gown, it was taken the day of her graduation.

 _Who was he, and how was he connected to her on such an important day?_

With a shaky hand, I clicked on the image and the caption read, "Mom, Dad, and the graduating class of 2014."

Her father was a fucking cop, and she'd never once mentioned it! Staring at the photo, I had a cocktail of emotions boiling inside me, mostly anger and feelings of betrayal. It made me ask myself why she befriended someone like me, questioning every encouraging word, every tolerant smile.

I'd heard Rose refer to Bella's dad as Charlie, and I Googled him, finding his professional image alongside other men with the same name. With one click, I was in the Seattle Police Department website, showing the profile of a career cop with twenty-eight years under his belt. Captain Charles Swan was in command of the North Precinct. It just kept getting better and better: a Degree in Criminal Justice, Masters in Public Administration, career highlights like the SWAT Team, and a stint at FBI Headquarters, Narcotics Unit.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

If Bella told him what happened, how she'd been hurt under my watch and scared half to death, he'd come after me as a very high priority and find a way to put me in jail.

From that moment on, I had to accept that contacting Bella was out of the question, even though the life drained out of me thinking that way. Instead of feeling positive and full of ambition, I looked over my shoulder, wary of anyone who struck up a conversation. I didn't settle down until I moved into the dorm at the dive school, when I finally let the paranoia go, believing that Bella's father either couldn't find me or was satisfied I was no longer a danger to her.

* * *

The nine-hour days of the course took over my life, physically and mentally challenging me. As my body's efficiency improved with our daily PT sessions, so did my concentration, and getting an 'A' in an exam was very encouraging. By the time we moved to the tank, I knew how every piece of equipment worked.

Once I got used to the sounds and sensations of breathing and communicating in a helmet, I was calm under water, offering solutions to problems in front of me while other students struggled with the mechanics of their gear. The years of watching Dad work out stuff on building sites were actually paying off.

One of the instructors pulled me aside during the week before fall break and patted me on the back, saying the way I approached the job was more valuable to employers than years of experience. He asked if I had any plans, and I told him I wanted to go to the oil rigs in the North Sea.

He just nodded and said, "You'll do well." He didn't say I was too young or that I should get more experience first, and those three words boosted my confidence.

While I was popular with the instructors, I found it hard to connect with my fellow students. I didn't know what they made of me, reluctant to answer everyday questions. They were nothing like me, talking about things I'd never experienced, lives I had only dreamed of. Many of them came to PT hungover and lazy, ungrateful for the opportunity they'd been given. Some pulled out of the course before they gave themselves a proper chance to succeed. All I saw was wasted money and time.

Most of them went home for fall break while I stayed, having lined up a full week's work at the bar. Sleeping in the dorm with so few people made me lonely, craving Bella again. She was still in my thoughts, and I wondered if she ever thought of me. I analyzed how our relationship developed, her fear of me, which turned into disgust and then belief that I could turn my life around. In a spur of the moment decision, I called the resort, and she answered. Dumbstruck and unprepared to hear her sweet voice, I hung on in silence, waiting for her to end the call.

" _Edward?"_ she asked, shocking the life out of me.

My mouth opened to speak, but I choked on the words, and she soon hung up, leaving me to wonder why she said my name. _Did she still care?_ Now I knew I had to try and see her before she left the island for good. I couldn't get the idea out of my head.

 _But what did I want to say?_

This time I'd be ready to explain why I hadn't contacted her. She had to know finding out about her father changed everything, and I practiced, moderating the anger out of my speech.

Straight after the break, we took to the open ocean in the school's dive vessel for a deep dive. It was just a bounce to the bottom and a long ascent with a series of decompression stops; more a lesson in patience and control than anything else.

The most magnificent shark swam up past me slowly as a call came through my helmet. One of the guys below me was panicking, heading for the surface. They asked me to stop him and take him back down. Without hearing what he was saying to the crew, the bubbles coming up showed his breathing was out of control. I grabbed hold of him, and with only the hand signals they'd taught us, managed to keep him with me, lowering us both to the previous deco stop.

I stepped back onto the ship a hero, and they sent him for counselling. Feeling good about myself, I decided to call Bella, but there was no signal from my crap phone. Trying from different sides of the ship, one of the crew saw me and handed me a satellite phone, telling me not to take long. When I heard it ring, I held my breath, excited when I heard her answer.

"Bella?" I called out loudly over the annoying static.

 _"Edward?"_

The line faded in and out, and I was nervous hearing her voice. "I just called to say Merry Christmas." She said something, but the static drowned her out. "Sorry?"

 _"Where are you?"_

The call died, and I tried again with no luck. I'd be damned if I didn't give it another shot, so I went back to ask if something was wrong with the phone. After he checked it out, he said it hadn't been charged properly and handed me another one.

I walked up to the stern of the ship and tried again, knowing she wouldn't wait long when she was finishing her shift. It rang, and I smiled when she answered.

"Is that better?"

She launched straight into me. _"Why didn't you call me? I've been worried sick about you."_

I sent it right back at her, feeling the anger I'd been holding for weeks. "Why didn't you tell me your father was a cop? Huh?" That stopped her. She had no comeback ready. "Your cover shot on Facebook, you know, the graduation picture? He's in uniform, Bella."

After a second, she said, _"It just never came up, did it?"_

"You think he wouldn't track me down and string me up by the balls if he knew the danger I put you in?"

 _"I never told anyone what happened, and he doesn't need to know."_ There was the answer why no one came after me.

"And you let me fall in love with you." I wanted to make sure she knew I meant that declaration of love. She was still the girl who had my heart.

 _"Then why did you leave that money for me? It was insulting."_

 _Was she really going to tackle me over the gift?_

"The money in the envelope? I wanted you to have it for your trip."

 _"It was two thousand dollars. You know what that meant. That was the exact amount..."_

 _Did she really think I'd paid for the privilege of sleeping with her? She must hate me._

"I didn't have time to count it. I just shoved what was left in the envelope. I didn't mean that. Christ, Bella. You know I didn't mean that."

Her voice was softer when she asked, _"Are you okay, Edward?"_

"Yeah." I wondered if she'd let me see her. "Are you going to be down here for Christmas?"

 _"No, this is our last week. We go home, and then we fly to London."_

Of course not. I had waited too long to contact her. "Oh… all right. Well… have a great time."

I really thought she'd hang up, but she asked, _"Where are you?"_

"I'm at sea, on a ship."

 _"Wow, are you really okay?"_ Her voice was so gentle. She sounded sincerely concerned for me, and it made me want the girl I loved.

"Yeah… I am," I answered as static screeched in my ears. "I think I'm losing this line, Bella. Have a Merry Christmas."

 _"Merry Christmas, Edward…"_

The fucking line did drop out and wouldn't reconnect, but I felt like we'd said all we could for now. She was leaving, and I'd still be here for months.

The call had not gone as planned, but something about the emotion in her voice made me think I still had a chance with her. How that would happen, I had no idea. For now, I would let her go and enjoy her vacation.

* * *

For the first time in years, I went home for Christmas, amazed at the improvements in Alice. Understandably wary of me, she was more engaged with Dad, anticipating and helping him. We went out together and bought a tree, which Alice decorated and redecorated until she was satisfied it looked right. Sadly, no friends came to visit over the holidays. In that regard, we were similar because I'd lost touch with my friends from school, but I was happy chilling at home with my father and sister.

It was over too quickly. In three months, I would be back, hopefully with a job lined up and ready to move to the U.K.

* * *

We spent our time on the use of explosives, cutting, topside and underwater welding, inspection and testing support structures, and rigging and airlifting heavy equipment. First aid, hazmat, offshore survival, and hyperbaric chamber operations became a big part of our world.

We moved into the Deep Water Training Center to experience the real world of commercial diving: surface-supplied air and diving bells. The shifts were exhausting, proving the work was much harder than it looked. This was where I had my first experience of breathing a helium-oxygen mix, and trying to communicate was impossible at first. It was the one thing I hated—the squeaky, duck-like voice—and I swore I'd never let anyone outside of work hear me talk like that.

As we approached graduation, an instructor wrote me a recommendation that helped me get me a job, the whole month of May on a ship out of Aberdeen, servicing the rigs in the North Sea. I'd make thirty thousand pounds, and if I did well, they'd hire me again.

The call to Dad was the most joyous one I'd made in years. He'd been intrigued with the work, encouraging me all the way, and I told him he'd never know how much his support meant to me. I wanted to scream that I'd done it, that I was on my way, but I had no one else I could tell.

I wondered where Bella was, if Rose and Em were with her, and if she was enjoying the trip as much as she'd hoped. Checking her Facebook page, there were no public posts. Frustrated, I tried Rosalie Hale, and their world opened up to me. Everything was public.

Bella and Rose were on the move. From the dates, they were spending a short time in each country. There was a shot of Bella asleep on a tourist coach, and my heart melted. God, I was still in love with her.

As I scrolled down, the background changed to groups of people, parties, booze, and massive bars with crowds and laser lighting. Bella was behind the bar working in some of them but there was nothing of Emmett. There were skiing images, with deep snow and mountains, somewhere called Davos, and it killed me seeing Bella with the same guy repeatedly. There were shots of him wearing a number, like a competitor.

With so many photos of this same place, they must have been there for a while, and I came to see this person as _my_ competitor, someone I'd allowed to compete for the love of my life as it happened in front of my eyes.

Then Rose and Bella were together in London, wearing layers of clothes out sightseeing, a night of masses of people and fireworks, obviously New Year. There hadn't been a single shot of Emmett.

 _Where the fuck was he?_

There was only one way to find out—call the resort—one of the barmen would know where he went. When they transferred me to the main bar, he answered the phone.

"It's Edward! You're still there?"

" _Hey, man!"_ he said with a chuckle. _"Bella said you were alive. You working on a ship?"_

At first, I didn't understand, and then I realized Bella must have told him what I said.

"No, I was on a ship that night I called. You didn't go to Europe with them?"

After a few seconds, he answered. _"Rose didn't want me to go."_

"Shit. Did you break up?"

" _Not really, but I haven't heard from her."_

"Oh, Em, I saw Rose's Facebook page and wondered where you were."

" _They seem to be having a good time."_

"Who's the guy with Bella? Do you know?"

" _Nope, and there's one who kept popping up with Rose, too."_

"I'm sorry I…" The words dried up in my throat. I honestly hadn't noticed, and Emmett would be taking this even harder than I was.

" _S'okay. I don't think it was serious. There are no photos of them now. Anywa_ y, _you know Bella wouldn't get involved with anyone else."_

"Why do you say that?" I couldn't help the glimmer of hope his words gave me.

" _In case you didn't know, she's in love with you."_

"I don't know about that, Em." God, I wanted that to be true.

" _Well, you didn't see her face when we spoke about you. You didn't see how lost she was when she thought you were dead."_

The pain in my gut was real and intense. "Christ, I'm so sorry, but I couldn't risk contacting you. What did happen when the police came? I still don't know."

" _We cleaned the place. They didn't find anything, so they left after a couple of hours. We thought they'd gone after you. Did you go to Chicago?"_

"No, but I'm going back soon then over to the U.K. I start a real job there in May."

" _Doing what?"_

"Commercial diving on the oil rigs."

" _Well, good for you, man. Good for you. You need to tell her that."_

"I don't have anyone's phone number."

" _I've got her home number. Call her parents."_

"Uh, I think I might PM her." The thought of Captain Swan answering my call was terrifying.

" _No, call her. She deserves to hear your voice for this one."_

"Her father's a cop, Em."

" _Well, PM her if you want, but you got nothing to lose."_

Sighing, I knew he was right. "I'll think about it."

" _I'll send you the number, just in case. I don't have their new cell numbers."_

Rose really had dumped him just like that. He deserved a lot better.

"I have to get a new phone myself. I'm not putting any more money on this piece of shit. How long are you planning to stay on the island?"

" _I'm still making good money. I thought Rose would call, and I'd join her over there, but I might come visit you instead."_

"Yes! Let's do that!"

" _Do you know where you are going to be living?"_

"No idea yet, but I'll keep in touch."

" _I'm glad you called, Ed."_

"Me too, Em. Me too."

I read out my cell number, and he said he'd text me Bella's number right away. Emmett had always given me good advice, like an amazing brother who never interfered or put me down.

The text arrived, and with his words in my head, I made the call before I lost my nerve.

It was just my luck that her father answered. I had to swallow before I could speak.

"Mr. Swan?"

" _Yes."_ I felt like I'd called him the wrong thing, and he was already on the defensive.

"My name's Edward Masen. I'm trying to get in touch with Bella."

" _Oh, really?"_ He sounded uninterested, leaving a wall of silence for me to break through.

"I'm a friend of hers. I don't have her new number."

" _I don't give out my daughter's number. If you were really her friend…"_ A female voice cut into the background, asking him who it was. She stopped him from shutting me down.

"I am her friend, Sir. Can I leave you a number where she can get in touch with me?"

He made a humming sound, like he was unsure, and then said, _"Sure, Edward. Let me get a pen."_

I gave him the direct line into the school, knowing Frank would find me or give me a message. The last thing I wanted was for her to call on this unreliable cell, and I wouldn't know.

Now it was up to her. I just hoped what Emmett believed was still true.

* * *

From the day I called Bella's house, Rose stopped posting on Facebook. When two weeks went by, and Bella hadn't called back, I wondered if the two things were connected. It was like they didn't want me to know anything about them anymore and saw me there lurking.

I started to think they'd already come home. My time here was running out, and I couldn't call Bella's parents again without appearing desperate and dangerous.

Accepting a future without Bella was tough, but I already knew life could often be cruel. I still reminded Frank occasionally I was expecting an important call, and he'd roll his eyes, telling me to concentrate on my exams. He saw how low I was, dragging myself through the end of the course.

Then one day, having finished a long practical exam, I passed by the booth, and Frank called out to me.

"Hey, Ed! Who's the girl?" My ears pricked up, and I walked in, frowning. He was holding a slip of paper in the air. "Bella Bellissima," he sang as he grinned at me. Charging at him, I tried to grab the note he held above his head.

We struggled in fun for a moment until I took the note from his hand and saw her name with a cell number. "Yes!" I said, feeling as light as a feather. "How did she sound?"

"Cute, Ed. Made sure I repeated the number back to her."

He handed me the phone and told me I had five minutes. All I could do was laugh. I'd never been so happy in all my life.

 _ **Thanks for reading xo**_


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